


Kindred Spirits

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Setting, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Ancient Egypt, Animagus, Attempted at least, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Basilisks, Breaking and Entering, Chance Meetings, Crossover, Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Curse Breaking, Death Eaters, Diagon Alley, Discorporation (Good Omens), Drinking, Egypt, Family Dinners, First Meetings, Flourish and Blotts, Gen, Healing, Herbology, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Human Nagini (Harry Potter), Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Injury, Legilimency, Light-Hearted, M/M, Memes, Metamorphmagus Harry Potter, Mild Blood, Muggle London, No beta we fall like Crowley, Non-Graphic Violence, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Occlumency, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Plants, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Recruitment, Sirius Black as Padfoot, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), The Burrow (Harry Potter), Theft, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-25 20:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: Crowley's antics open up a whole new world for him and Aziraphale, causing them to cross paths with various Hogwarts students and others from the wizarding world in a series of mostly stand-alone but slightly interconnected chapters.New chapters are added occasionally in pairs as I get ideas.  Suggestions are always welcome.





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> I have pulled things forward so instead of the three being at Hogwarts in the '90s, they are there now in present time. Unfortunately a few elements I needed to use in the story didn't exist back then (or didn't exist in the form they are now).
> 
> I don't do crossovers usually. This will probably be either my only one, or a rare occurrence. I really just like writing in the GO universe if that's not obvious from my list of works. :)
> 
> I was expecting this to be a one-shot, not multiple chapters, but it's been such a joy to write.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding a Table of Contents because this is getting long. The chapters are mostly stand-alone, so this will let you pick and choose the chapters you want to read.

1\. You're standing in it. 

2\. [Boop the Snoot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/49727297#workskin)

  * Harry and Ron, with Hermione reluctantly in tow, are in London looking for the city's local legends. Their adventures lead them to Soho where it is rumoured there is a rather unusual bookshop with a rather unusual occupant. (You should probably read this one as it starts the whole series off.)

3\. [Troublemakers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/50144813#workskin)

  * Crowley's curiosity about the Wizarding World leads him to Diagon Alley and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Let the shenanigans begin.

4\. [Serene Observations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/50894743#workskin)

  * Aziraphale encounters Luna Lovegood, who's enough of a mystic to figure out his true nature. (Slight references to "Troublemakers" but you don't need to read that to understand this chapter.)

5\. [Herbololgy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/51311491#workskin)

  * Neville Longbottom teaches Crowley a thing or two about plants.

6\. [Meeting McGonagall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/53078344#workskin)

  * Professor McGonagall wants a word with Aziraphale about the snake hanging around his bookshop and the curious Hogwarts students who come looking for him.

7\. [The Basilisk ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/53237434)

  * Crowley senses the presence of a Basilisk at Hogwarts that must be taken care of before it causes trouble. (Slight reference to "Meeting McGonagall" but nothing that's going to require it be read first.)

8\. [Tea with Dumbledore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/54799171#workskin)

  * Aziraphale and Dumbledore discuss matters of importance concerning the war with Voldemort to come. (Slight reference to "The Basilisk" and it's evident they've briefly encountered Dumbledore before.)

9\. [In the Corridors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/55109602)

  * Snape encounters Crowley in Hogwarts' corridors. It goes as as well as you'd expect. (This happens at the same time as "Tea With Dumbledore", but any needed explanation is in the beginning of this chapter.)

10\. [A Toad by Any Other Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/56212234)

  * Unusual magic use is detected by the Ministry of Magic in Soho and Mayfair. Delores Umbridge is sent to investigate but Aziraphale is having none of it.

11\. [A Dinner to Remember](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/56529145)

  * Aziraphale and Crowley attend dinner at the Burrow. It isn't long before things start to devolve into chaos. (This is in two parts, so you'll have to read the next chapter, "Tea and Chaos". And there's mention of Aziraphale running into Molly Weasley at Flourish and Blotts where he gets the dinner invitation, which happened last chapter, but you shouldn't have to read it to get this one.)

12\. [Tea and Chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/56866606)

  * Dinner with the Weaselys is not going well. Crowley's temper is rising and Aziraphale decides that maybe they need to have this discussion later when everyone is calmer. But will it help? (You need to read "A Dinner to Remember" first as this is a two-parter.)

13\. [The Dog on the Doorstep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/58237930)

  * Aziraphale comes back from a quick trip to the coffee shop for a latte and pastries to find a large black dog on his doorstep. A call to Crowley has the demon rushing over thinking it's an escaped hellhound, but what they really have is a mystery on their hands.

14\. [Slither In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/58588270)

  * When Nagini appears at the bookshop, trapping Aziraphale inside, Crowley learns there's more to her than appears.

15\. [Dangerous Tomes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/60373642)

  * Draco Malfoy is ordered to steal some books. Unfortunately for him, they're located in exactly the wrong bookshop.

16\. [When In Egypt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/60730693)

  * Crowley and Aziraphale take a holiday in Egypt where they run into Bill Weasley.

17\. [Watchful Eye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/62634982)

  * Mad-Eye Moody finds Aziraphale's bookshop.

18\. [Dark Encounters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/63083719)

  * Voldemort has become aware of Crowley and desires the power of the demon for his cause. Refusal is not an option.

19\. [Wolfsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/65022715)

  * Dumbledore asks for Aziraphale's help when Snape stops brewing Wolfsbane Potions for Lupin. Part one of two.

20\. [Metamorphosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917808/chapters/65401699)

  * Aziraphale talks with Lupin while Crowley shows his spark of goodness to Tonks, who is pining after the one she loves, just like Crowley did.


	2. Boop the Snoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron, with Hermione reluctantly in tow, are in London looking for the city's local legends. Their adventures lead them to Soho where it is rumoured there is a rather unusual bookshop with a rather unusual occupant.

It was that time of year again. London was being flooded with young wizards and witches gathering supplies and getting ready to head back to that magical school up north where they supposedly taught youngsters with that gift how to use magic responsibly and not set each other on fire. That meant they were tracking down all the local legends they could find in the city when not off buying dried animal parts for potions and unfortunately, Aziraphale found his bookshop on the list.

It didn’t help that Crowley perpetuated the myth surrounding the bookshop for his own amusement no matter how many times Aziraphale asked him to stop. But it was lip service because he really didn’t do much to actually _make_ Crowley quit it. In fact, he reasoned it was in the best interests of his angelic duties. If the demon was in the bookshop pulling minor pranks, he was not out causing major mischief, like tying up traffic during the evening commute.

The bell above the front door rang, causing Aziraphale to roll his eyes heavenward in an extremely put out manner. He glared at the three teenagers who entered – two boys and a girl, all looking to be in the age range of fifteen to seventeen years old, according to Aziraphale’s best guess. He never was good at determining young human beings’ ages. It’s not like he ever had a childhood. Or aged for that matter. 

One boy had glasses and dark hair that covered his forehead. The other boy was a freckled redhead. Aziraphale knew what trouble redheads could be, having dealt with one for the last six thousand years. The girl, with her bushy hair and no-nonsense glower, looked less than pleased to be here until she saw the books. Then her expression changed to one of delight. Aziraphale watched as she brushed the spines of a few with a reverential touch.

A fellow bookworm, Aziraphale noted and his opinion of her rose a few notches. The boys were still on his list, though, and based on his first impressions, would never leave it. 

Stepping out from his office, he gave them a hard stare. “Can I help you?”

“Nah,” said the redhead, grinning. “Just looking.”

He nudged the bespectacled boy, who smiled slightly back at him. Together they disappeared among the shelves. 

“Would you mind too much if I looked around? I know I’m probably not your usual customer,” the girl asked, her eyes alight with excitement. “I really do love books. I spend all my time in the library at school. The things you can learn from the old tomes nobody’s opened for decades. I’ll keep an eye those two, I promise.”

She shrugged an apology that suggested she’d do her best to keep them in line. Aziraphale gave her a stern nod of permission while secretly beaming behind it. He had a feeling she was a girl after his own heart.

“These books are rare,” she hissed as she marched after them. “Show some respect. We shouldn’t be here, anyway, since Professor McGonagall doesn’t like us going into Muggle shops.”

“Calm down, Hermione,” said one of the boys. “We only want to see if it’s true and we’ll leave.”

“Can we borrow your mobile? Just to get a picture? I was going to bring Dudley’s old one, but he had a tantrum and broke it.”

With an exasperated sigh, she handed it over. Aziraphale thought that she must indulge them as much as he indulged Crowley. Shaking his head, he went into the shelves to organize and keep a discreet eye on the three.

They would find what they were looking for because what they were searching out was here and _wanted_ to be found.

“Mobile?” said the redhead. “So that’s what those thin rectangle thingys are called? That’s an odd name for a camera. I’d like to get a photograph of that Muggle car out front. My dad would go nuts over it. It’s so much classier than the Anglia was.”

_Yes, just feed his ego_, thought Aziraphale sarcastically, knowing how much Crowley preened when he was complimented on the Bentley. 

“It’s more like a telephone, Ron, except more than a telephone. Muggles have managed to put cameras and texting and apps in one device,” said the girl. There was a pause as if the boy didn’t know how to respond. “I’ll explain later.”

The girl went back to browsing, exclaiming with excitement every once in a while with something along the lines of, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a first edition of this!” or “I wonder how Muggle books of prophecy compare to the ones in the wizarding world.”

The two boys crept around, eventually coming upon the window in the west where sat one of Aziraphale’s antique armchairs next to a table covered in several old books and a couple of half-completed crossword puzzles.

“Bloody hell! Harry!” The redhead was excitedly tugging on the arm of his companion. “Look over there!”

“Ron, stay back!” The girl’s voice was shrill with concern. “Look at the size of that snake. Harry, was the Basilisk bigger?”

“Yes.” The reply was terse as if “the Basilisk” was a memory the boy didn’t want to dredge up. “But I still wouldn’t want to meet that snake in a dark alley.”

“Don’t just stand there,” whispered the redhead urgently. “Get some pictures!”

“Harry, don’t. It’s awfully big and doesn’t look like it wants to be disturbed. What’s the owner thinking, keeping a giant snake in a _bookshop_?”

_You don’t know the half of it, my dear girl_. Aziraphale was a little too intense as he shoved new acquisitions on to the shelves. He silently apologized to them.

The girl stayed quite some distance from the sunbeam-filled antique chair where there lay coiled an enormous black snake with a red belly, long length draped over the arms. The boys were less concerned, sneaking closer. The darker-haired one carried an iPhone, camera on and at the ready.

“Do it!”

_Click_.

“Got it!”

“Let’s _go_,” said the girl, hands on hips, facial expression again registering a scowl and . . . might Aziraphale say it . . . slight embarrassment.

The redhead grinned. “Hey Harry, get one of me doing . . . what was it? Boop the snake snoot? Show Seamus and Dean I know what a meme is. I’ve talked about them with some of the other Muggle-borns.”

“No! Let’s leave before we get ourselves kicked out. Or Ron gets his arm bitten off. I am _not _trying to explain that one.”

“It’s just a picture of someone’s pet snake, Hermione, and it looks to be asleep.”

“It’s hard to tell when it has no eyelids!” she retorted.

Despite her disapproval, the redhead crept closer to the snake, arm extended, forefinger out. Unfortunately for him, the snake noticed, raising its rather large head, yellow eyes focusing on him. A forked tongue flicked lazily out.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

They froze, the redhead dropping his hand and looking at his dark-haired friend in shock. “I understood it. Do I speak Parseltongue now?”

“I didn’t hear Parseltongue,” replied his friend, sounding a bit shocked.

“Don’t be stupid, Ron. The ability to speak and understand Parseltongue is mostly hereditary. You wouldn’t now just start understanding it,” said the girl. “We’re simply hearing things.”

“No,” hissed the snake. “You’re not hearing thingsss at all. I do ssspeak Englisssh.” 

The three stared at each other as Aziraphale approached.

“Yes, he speaks English quite well. Congratulations, you can check the snake in the bookshop off your list of local legends.” He pointed dramatically at the door. “_Out._”

The boys left quickly and without argument. Aziraphale put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She looked up at him a little fearfully. He smiled back at her. 

“Don’t worry, my dear girl. I just want a word with someone I see as a kindred spirit. Please do give me a moment.” He glared over at the snake in the chair who regarded him in return. “That wasn’t necessary, Crowley.”

Hermione thought she heard the snake snicker in reply before laying his head back down on his coils.

“I swear he gets worse every year,” the shopkeep said before he returned to their conversation. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I have a feeling you respect and appreciate books almost as much as I do. If you leave those two at home, I’d be more than happy to have you back to browse.”

The girl lit up. “Really? I’d love to. You have so many unusual things in here. I’d enjoy the chance to read them.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “As long as you don’t try to buy them, you can read the age-appropriate ones that aren’t too delicate to be handled.”

“I’d be happy just reading them,” Hermione gushed. “The knowledge your collection must contain.”

But he noticed her looking worriedly at the snake in the antique chair. 

“Never mind him. He’s mostly harmless. Aren’t you, you old serpent?”

The snake looked like he was smiling at them, a momentary glint of amusement in the eye visible amongst the coils.

“But he speaks. . .”

“And you’re a witch.” Aziraphale winked as she gasped. “Surely you know there’s more out there than what you can perceive with your own eyes.”

There was no longer a snake in the chair, but a lanky man with red hair dressed in stylish shades of black who contrasted the slightly dumpier bookseller with his dated light-coloured wardrobe and white-blond curls. He grinned at her and touched the side of his nose with a long finger, careful not to knock the sunglasses he wore askew.

“You’re wizards,” she breathed then looked at the former snake. “And you’re an Animagus.”

“Of a sort, yes . . . but not really,” Crowley replied.

“I don’t quite understand. . .”

“You don’t need to,” said his companion. “You live in a world filled with all kinds of magical beings. Surely you can believe there are others. We’d just appreciate it if you kept us to yourself. And do stop by again sometime. We can have a cup of tea and discuss books.”

“That sounds wonderful,” she replied. “I’d better catch up with my friends, though . . .”

With a wave she was out the door, certain that she saw the faintest shimmer of wing-shaped glows behind the two of them – white for the bookseller, black for his auburn-haired friend.

Angels? In London? Running a bookshop? Hermione didn’t think too hard about how weird that was, though. In her short time as a witch, she’d run into weirder. Stepping out on to the pavement, she looked around for Harry and Ron.

In the bookshop Crowley returned the glare Aziraphale was giving him with his cheekiest grin. The angel went back to his work with a sigh. At least rumours of a giant snake roaming free about the place kept many potential customers away. Sometimes you had to find the silver lining. Doubly so when you were involved with a demon.


	3. Troublemakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's curiosity about the Wizarding World leads him to Diagon Alley and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Let the shenanigans begin.

“What are you doing?” asked Aziraphale as Crowley snapped his fingers in front of the brick wall behind The Leaky Cauldron causing it to open up so they could enter Diagon Alley. “I thought we were going to go wine shopping.”

“Mere curiosity, Aziraphale. I want to know more about this world your little protégé Hermione speaks of during your discussions about books. That’s all,” Crowley replied as he slipped through the barrier followed closely by Aziraphale. “We’ll do your wine shopping afterwards. I promise.”

Before them spread an entire cobblestone street lined with shops peddling items one would not find out in “normal” London. Up and down the pavements walked customers wearing robes while children ran around in what Hermione called “Muggle clothing.” Occasionally Crowley saw one of the humans perform a spell.

He broke out in a large smile. “Oh, look at that . . . clever human beings with the right stuff figuring out they can use magic in place of technology. Quite fascinating.”

“I hardly call what they do magic,” said Aziraphale haughtily. “It pales in comparison to what we can accomplish with our powers.”

“We’re just on a different level, that’s all.” Crowley peered into the window of a shop that sold wands then wandered off to look into one that advertised robes and hats. 

Aziraphale walked along uncomfortably beside the demon until Crowley pointed out an ice cream parlour just next to a second-hand bookshop. The angel eyed the two storefronts with tempting thoughts of perusing the Wizarding world books Hermione talked about then getting some ice cream. 

“If you’re going to look around the shops here, I’m going to go see what they offer in reading material and ice cream flavours while you satiate your curiosity, my dear. Don’t take too long, please.”

He headed off straight for the bookshop.

Free of the angel, Crowley poked around more thoroughly, looking around in shops that sold magical quills, potion ingredients and broomsticks for flying. To think they had to do more than snap their fingers to make magic happen . . . Crowley was intrigued.

Walking out of the latest shop, he strolled towards the next which seemed to be advertising some kind of product called “U-No-Poo” on a poster on the wall outside.

“You-Know-Who?” he asked, reading the entire advertisement as he entered. “No, I don’t.”

Crowley about ran into the young man in lurid magenta robes with fiery hair a shade lighter than his own. The colour clashed quite well with his wardrobe. He felt the young man was sizing him up. 

“Where have you been, then?” the young man asked. “You sound as English as I do.”

“My accent lies. I’m actually from Down Under.”

“Then I won’t ask more questions about it, my friend. Welcome to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, your one-stop prank and joke shop. My brother and I personally have developed almost all the pranks and other products you see on the shelves,” the young man replied. “Although you do seem a bit older that our usual clientele. They tend to be shorter and have more acne.”

Crowley was poking around a bit on nearby shelves as the young man spoke. He was finding him actually quite likeable. Nothing like meeting a fellow mischief maker. He wondered how good the kid was.

He picked up a Skiving Snackbox, reading the blurb on the side of it. “Make yourself sick so you don’t have to attend class. I’ll give you a few points for that, but it’s hardly much in the way of pranks. What else do you have?”

The young man led Crowley around the store, pointing out a few items, like Decoy Detonators to create a distraction, Canary Creams, if you felt like temporarily turning your friend into a giant bird, Instant Darkness for a quick getaway, and a selection of wizarding fireworks.

“Not bad,” commented Crowley. He looked over to notice an identical young man join the one he was talking to. “Oh lookie here, there are two of you little pranksters. More mischief to go around.”

“I’m George Weasley,” said the new guy. “That’s obviously my twin, Fred. I was just wondering who the man in all black wearing sunglasses indoors was. Most people take theirs off inside. You have a name?”

“Anthony Crowley,” the demon replied, ignoring the sunglasses comment outright. “I was just curious so I thought I’d look around. Apparently I’m not welcome here? Even as a fellow troublemaker?”

The twins looked at each other with matching smirks. “Fellow troublemaker? Right. We’ve been doing this a long time.”

Crowley leaned against a shelf containing assorted boxes of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. 

“Do tell,” said he who had been on Earth causing humanity varying levels of annoyance since the world was new. 

“The first prank we pulled was turning our little brother’s teddy bear into a giant spider,” said Fred.

“He still doesn’t like spiders to this day,” added George.

“Nice.” Crowley nodded, skimming over the Dung Bombs and Stink Pellets. They looked like something these two could use to piss off a lot of people.

“What was yours?” Fred asked, giving Crowley a look that said he thinking it wasn’t going to be something very impressive.

“I convinced someone to eat an apple she wasn’t supposed to.”

“That’s all?” Fred didn't look impressed.

“Doesn’t seem like much,” George agreed.

“Well, it did result in a lifetime ban from said Garden where one was previously welcome. I wasn’t expecting that result, to be honest. The Garden’s Owner was rather protective of a certain apple tree." _You kind of had to be there, kid._

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

“Seems a bit over the top for a kid, though.”

Crowley shrugged, “I was precocious.” He read the box containing the Whiz-Bangs, suddenly interested in fireworks that survived longer than the ones he was used to. “Sooooo, how long do these last and what pranks did you pull with them?”

“Those were part of our greatest prank we ever pulled, right George?”

The other twin nodded. “The memories there, my friend. It brings a tear to my eye to think about it.”

“Imagine a Portable Swamp taking up the entire entrance hall of Hogwarts.”

“While fireworks whistle and bang all day as they float around interrupting classes until a teacher takes care of them with a Vanishing Charm.”

“Which just multiplies them. They tried Stunning Spells, too, which makes them explode.”

“And we fly off on our brooms into the sunset while the entire student body watches.”

“But not before telling the resident poltergeist to give the teacher we hated hell for us.”

“It was grand.”

Given what he did know of human magic, it sounded like quite a feat. Crowley nodded, impressed. It was something for a couple of teenagers to be clever enough to disrupt an entire school with that level of magic. Their teachers must have been glad to see the backs of them.

“You have potential,” he announced.

“Potential?” Fred asked incredulously.

“You make it sound like you’re some expert who’s been doing this forever. You can’t be more than . . . what . . . late twenties?” retorted George.

“I’m older than I look. Clean living.”

“Then impress us.”

Both of them stood before him arms crossed, smiles on their faces. Crowley cocked an eyebrow above his sunglasses with a smirk. He set the box of Whiz-Bangs he was holding back down very carefully before making a complicated gesture with his hand.

The entire shop darkened as the magical lights dimmed then started to flicker. Here and there boxes of product popped randomly off the shelves, flying several feet before landing on the floor, scaring browsing customers. A box of Fever Fudges crashed through the window in its jump from the shelves. Over in the front corner, the Pygmy Puff cage flew open, allowing the little furballs to hop out to freedom. Fleeing customers running from the attacking boxes trampled a few as they made for the front doors.

“What the bloody hell?” yelled one of the twins.

Crowley stood there smiling in a self-satisfied manner while chaos reigned supreme around them. The shop’s proprietors ducked as fireworks exploded on to the scene, whizzing and whirling through the store with whistling noises, knocking over entire shelves with a crash. A couple of Catherine Wheels made it to the backroom where the destruction they were causing could be heard clearly in the form of crashes and bangs. Eventually black smoke poured forth from there, racing out the top of the doorway and along the ceiling, causing the place to get even darker.

Decoy Detectors went off. Instant Darkness caused patches of complete black here and there. The shop lay in ruins.

“Our store!”

“The inventory!”

With a snap from Crowley, it all stopped. Fred and George looked upon a peaceful shop full of undamaged goods, untrampled Pygmy Puffs, bright lighting and browsing customers. Mouths open, they looked over at the smug demon leaning against the shelves. 

“That was the grandest illusion we have ever seen or will probably ever witness.”

“We bow to you.”

And both twins did, taking long scraping bows in Crowley’s direction.

“You _are_ a legend. And not even a wand. How have we never heard of you?” asked George.

“When you’re as good as I am you try to work as invisibly as possible. You don’t want your tricks thwarted, you know.”

Fred pulled some merchandise off the shelves, shoving into Crowley’s arms a selection of Whiz-Bangs, Stink Pellets and other products. “On the house, my good sir, for that impressive piece of entertainment. I’d like to see more of your troublemaking in action sometime.”

“Why thank you. I’ll have to put these to good use.”

“Please, if you’re ever in the area again instead of Down Under, stop by. I have a feeling we’d love to brainstorm ideas with you for new products.”

“We’d even give you a cut of the profits.”

“How can I turn that down? But I must be on my way. My friend is probably sitting there bored at the ice cream parlour by now. I’ll see you two around.”

Crowley exited the shop, laughing all the way the outdoor seating of the ice cream parlour where a familiar figure sat finishing up the last of his cone. Aziraphale gave the boxes in Crowley’s arms a wary look as he stood up, picking up the bag full of books he purchased after miracling up the right kind of money.

“You’re not bringing those into my bookshop. It’s bad enough you slither around it in snake form.”

“Don’t worry. I was thinking of setting off a few of these fine products in Hastur’s office if I can get away with it. He’s on bad terms with Maintenance regularly. I can use that to my advantage.”

“Crowley, please do be careful.” 

Crowley talked a bit about his conversation with the twins ending with, “They’re bright young men. They’ll go places with that shop of theirs.”

“Hmm, I’m sure they will. Off to the wine shop, then?”

They approached the Bentley.

“Of course, angel. Get in.” 

Dumping the fireworks in the backseat, Crowley slid behind the wheel. The Bentley pulled away from the curb, but Crowley was fairly certain he’d be back to see what those two were up to. 


	4. Serene Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale encounters Luna Lovegood, who's enough of a mystic to figure out his true nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To keep it even, I'll add a chapter on about Crowley, too. I'm thinking on one hand it might be him and Neville, but on the other, he'd probably scare Neville. But you never know . . . I seem to be about 5th or 6th Year in the HP timeline, so this is the Neville who's going to be a thorn in the Carrows' sides in a year or two. :)
> 
> Not beta'ed. My normal beta person is on vacation. Here we go . . .

Aziraphale had decided to tag along when Crowley visited the Weasleys again to help them plan out some new merchandise, tempted by the several bookshops there in the Alley and some suggestions of titles from Hermione. He was not going to admit that the ice cream shop there with its multitude of flavours was calling his name. Or that he was determined to try every single flavour they had.

He elected to wear a robe this time over his clothing so he would not stand out so much. Unfortunately beige was not much used in the wizard world causing him to stand out almost as much as if he wasn’t wearing one at all. But at least this time everyone thought he was just a wizard with eclectic tastes in fashion rather than wondering what a Muggle was doing in Diagon Alley. He got asked several times the last time he was here if he was a Muggle who had a student at Hogwarts. Finally, he just started saying yes, he did and that his student was busy checking out the new joke shop while he waited.

Crowley probably would have been irritated he had been assigned the role of “student” in this little charade.

Aziraphale had bought a couple of Wizarding books and was sitting outside the ice cream shop eating some sticky toffee pudding ice cream while flipping through _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. It was rather encouraging to learn not all the unicorns drowned in the Great Flood, although the existence of dragons was somewhat concerning.

It was quite peaceful sitting there in the sun reading away the afternoon so he was a bit surprised when a voice cut across his concentration.

“It’s a pity a comprehensive book like that doesn’t include the Crumpled-Horn Snorkack.”

He looked up to find a young woman with long blonde hair about Hermione’s age staring down at him from silvery eyes. She had a rather dreamy expression on her face. He smiled at her, wondering why she decided to speak to him.

“A Crumpled-Horn Snorkack? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he said to her, noting that her wand was tucked behind her ear and her earrings appeared to be made of small orange radishes.

“It’s a rare magical animal. Nobody has seen one yet, but my father does own the only known horn to be found,” she replied, looking at him a moment before focusing on the bookshop. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Be my guest.” He wasn’t quite sure why he invited her to sit down other than she seemed rather entertaining. “What brings you here?”

“My father and I occasionally come to London to do some shopping. Since school is out for break, we’re spending a few days here.” She sat down in the chair across from him, appearing to examine him rather closely while having her head in the clouds at the same time. “You don’t much look like someone interested in magibiology. You look more like a bookseller.”

_Observant one for all her dotty demeanor_, Aziraphale thought.

“I am. I run a bookshop over in Soho,” he replied.

“Ah,” she replied in that not-quite-there manner of hers. “You don’t seem like a Muggle.”

“I’m not exactly one.” He put aside the book, now curious about this young woman who decided to accost him out of the blue. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here, would I? And I believe we’ve bypassed introductions, which makes it rather difficult for me to get to know you.”

“Luna Lovegood,” she stuck out her hand. 

He took it. “A.Z. Fell.”

“Hermione’s friend,” she said, a small smile lighting up her face.

He raised a surprised eyebrow at her.

“One time I heard her whispering to Harry and Ron in the hallway that she was going to spend the weekend in London. One day with her parents and one day at your bookshop. Apparently you have the most amazing book collection and are very knowledgeable,” she replied. “But that’s all I know because she saw me behind her and stopped talking.”

“Yes, I know Hermione and she visits me often. I let her read some of my collection,” Aziraphale admitted. “She is a bright young witch, indeed. Are you friends with her?”

“I guess. It’s hard to tell. She is kind to me but we don’t hang out that much. I think I scared her a bit with the Rotfang Conspiracy, but people aren’t always ready to accept the truth, are they?” she replied, seemingly unconcerned about whether Hermione actually was her friend or not.

Aziraphale furrowed his brow in confusion. “The Rotfang Conspiracy?”

Luna leaned forward, replying in a whisper. “There are Aurors and other strong wizards who are trying to take out the Ministry of Magic through a combination of gum disease and Dark Magic. My father doesn’t have much evidence, but he keeps trying to get more. They know he’s on to them and they’re blocking any attempts to gather enough information to publish. He owns _The Quibbler_, you see. It’s a wizarding newspaper. The only one that prints the truth these days.”

_Oh, dear. Delusions run in the family. Well, at least she’s smart and seems harmless. She really is quite nice, too. It could be worse_, thought Aziraphale.

“Oh. I had no idea,” he said aloud. 

She gazed off calmly as if what she said was of no consequence even though, crazy as the conspiracy was, it spoke of governmental overthrow. “I bet you could do something about it, Aziraphale.”

He tensed a moment at hearing his real name, then relaxed figuring that she overheard Hermione saying it. His sky blue eyes looked her up and down, finally coming to rest on her pale silvery ones. “Why could a bookseller like myself do something about it?”

“You’re not human, are you?” She was twisting a lock of blonde hair around her finger as she looked not at him, but just over his left shoulder. 

Aziraphale felt distinctly uncomfortable and wished for the first time that she had not come to sit down at his table. He carefully shut his book and gave her his full attention. “And what makes you ask that, my dear girl?”

“Your wings,” Luna replied.

_How can she see what exists on a different plane?_

“My wings,” he said in his most skeptical tones.

“Yes. I can kind of see them if I try. They’re large and white just like an angel’s wings. They kind of look like swan wings; they’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Denying it would be pointless. She obviously could make observations others ignored. “Just how are you doing that?”

She just smiled quietly. “I look where others don’t.”

“Quite so, I noticed. But it is not my job to stop any conspiracies. I was here to encourage people to thwart the wiles of my rival.”

“What if your rival happens to be involved in the Conspiracy?”

Aziraphale laughed slightly. “I doubt that’s his style. He tended towards causing annoyances with mobile networks and reshaping highways.”

She cocked her head to one side, regarding him carefully. “You use past tense.”

“Well . . . events happened, you might say,” he replied with a flustered smile.

She definitely had the ability to figure things out humans shouldn’t. It unnerved him to some extent. 

“Heaven doesn’t want you any more.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You walk a dangerous line, my dear girl. You really should keep some of your observations to yourself.” He reopened his book, hoping she’d get the hint.

She laughed, a bright sound with no ulterior motives to it. “There’s a lot I do keep to myself, like this interesting conversation that neither of us are going to tell to anyone else. I’ll keep your secrets and you’ll keep mine.”

“All right. I think that’s a deal I can live with. I don’t need my true nature being spread around the Wizarding world. Or any world for that matter.”

He looked up to see Crowley exiting the Weasley’s shop with a grin on his face. The brainstorming session must have gone well, then. Luna noticed him as well as he paused briefly to converse with one of the twins, who had left the shop with him.

“Another one of your lot?” she asked Aziraphale.

“So to speak, but I believe you already knew that given how you’re squinting at him.”

“His wings were built for speed. They’re a sleeker shape than yours,” she observed. 

“Well, he was more in need of quick exits than I ever was,” Aziraphale replied.

Crowley was approaching the table now and Aziraphale was rather glad to see him. As entertaining as this young witch was, her observations on them were becoming more than he could deal with right now. The typical human would have glossed over it all as balderdash by now, but she accepted it as if meeting angels and demons was an everyday occurrence. Religious humans often believed in angels and sometimes professed to seeing one, even communicating with them, but the reality was they couldn’t handle Aziraphale’s true nature if he appeared to them like that.

True, Hermione knew their real nature, but he had taken time to build it into something she could accept without her mind deciding two minutes later to bury it somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain never to be accessed again.

Crowley had collapsed into the chair beside Luna with her looking him over very carefully.

“About ready to go, angel?”

“Angel,” said Luna, standing up to leave as well. “Now that’s funny; I get that. But why are _your _wings black?”

Crowley just raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses while looking over at her. “Do I know you?”

“Luna, this is Anthony Crowley. Crowley, this is Luna Lovegood,” said Aziraphale, wondering what Crowley would make of her. “She’s rather observant.”

“So I see,” the demon replied. He held up a hand in a position Aziraphale knew meant he was two seconds away from making her forget a few things.

Luna reached over, pulling down Crowley’s sunglasses to stare into those surprised golden serpentine eyes. His poised hand fell. 

“Your eyes are gorgeous. I don’t know why you hide them.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “If you’re a demon, that’s ok. Sometimes you end up where you need to be to do the most good. You can’t be that evil if you hang out with an angel. Maybe you’re like a Thestral. People don’t understand them, either.”

Carefully sliding the glasses back up where they belonged, she smiled serenely at both of them and left with a wave.

“Well, that was a thing,” commented Crowley.

“Yes. She’s a bit dotty but underneath that she’s very observant. You’d find her entertaining.”

“What’s a Thestral?”

“I have no idea.”

“Probably should have modified her memory,” said Crowley as he got up.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Aziraphale vanished the remains of his ice cream and picked up his bag of books, shoving _Fantastic Beasts_ into it. “From what I gather, she says a lot of strange things but nobody takes her seriously. We’re safe.”

“I hope so, angel. I rather like this world and I’d like to keep coming back to it.”

With that, they headed back to the Bentley with plans to see an art show before having dinner at the Ritz, no reservations needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled the flavour of Aziraphale's ice cream from those offered at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios in Florida, USA. Because, why not?


	5. Herbology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville Longbottom teaches Crowley a thing or two about magical plants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if to count this done or not. This is like my story "Switching," if I get ideas, I'll add to it, so a green checkmark up in the corner does not necessarily mean it's finished. I just don't want to be rude and leave it open in case I don't get any more inspiration. Suggestions are welcome. A couple of these chapters exist because readers made suggestions to me. :)

The bell on the door to the bookshop jingled causing Crowley to raise his head off his coils in anticipation of a customer. He was back to his old trick of scaring them off ever since one was especially rude to Aziraphale last week, flustering the angel something terrible. This time he was sunning himself in one of the front windows.

“Hello, Crowley,” said Hermione upon spotting him. “Is Aziraphale in?”

“Yesss. He’sss upssstairsss. He ssshould be right down,” he replied. “ANGEL! COMPANY!”

“Thanks,” said Hermione in a slightly amused tone. She had been coming here long enough to get used to Crowley. 

Aziraphale’s blond head appeared at the railing. “Hello there, my dear girl. I’ll be down in a jiffy.”

“Yes, just give him two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” said a now-human-shaped Crowley. He picked up a book Hermione had set down as she looked over the selection of books Aziraphale had left out by the till in anticipation of her visit. “_Hogwarts: A History_. An entire book written about the school? Really?”

“Yes and it’s quite interesting if you’d actually read it,” replied Hermione as she flipped through one of the angel’s selections. “You can’t hate reading that much if you hang out with Aziraphale.”

“He doesn’t,” said Aziraphale, who was just stepping off the staircase. “He just doesn’t publicly like to admit to reading.”

That earned him a glare from Crowley. “Shut up.”

“I’d actually like to see Hogwarts sometime,” Aziraphale said as he walked with Hermione to the backroom for tea and talk about their mutual love of books and knowledge. “It sounds so lovely from your descriptions.”

“We could just pop in, have a look around, pop back to London,” said Crowley who was still seated in the window, one leg resting on the wide windowsill, the other dangling. 

“You can’t Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds,” said Hermione as she handed _Hogwarts: A History_ to Aziraphale, who leisurely flipped through it as his guest put sugar in her tea.

“Who says we Apparate? We miracle.” Crowley broke out in a rather devious grin, which Aziraphale caught from his vantage point at the table. He shook his head ever-so-slightly as Crowley raised his hand. Too late.

They found themselves on Hogwarts grounds behind the greenhouses, the three of them stumbling slightly.

“Ngh . . . had to navigate around some strong spells,” muttered Crowley.

Aziraphale put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder to steady her before she fell into a pile of compost. She gave him a look with slightly glazed over eyes. He glared in Crowley’s direction but the demon was already peering into the greenhouse windows.

“You’re here, so why don’t you two go tour the place. I have to check this out.” Crowley gestured with a thumb towards the greenhouse. “Magical plants. How charming.” 

“Fine,” sighed Aziraphale. “If you don’t mind, my dear girl?”

“Not at all. We can start with the castle itself.” Hermione cast a worried look at Crowley. “I hope he stays away from the Venomous Tentacula.”

“He can handle himself.”

“I’m more worried about the plant,” she replied as they walked off.

Crowley had sauntered around the front of the building, slipping in carefully after making sure he was alone. But once inside, he found himself staring down a round-faced young man wearing a pair of earmuffs while holding up a screaming bulbous root that resembled a very ugly baby with leaves sticking out of its head. 

The young man’s eyes widened in shock and he quickly buried the strange plant baby in the pot of dirt in front of him. He yanked off the earmuffs, returning his gaze to Crowley who had watched him work.

“How are you still standing? That should have knocked you out,” he said. “Do you feel ok, sir? Not feeling lightheaded are you?”

“No. Why? What was that, besides hideous?” asked Crowley, who was now poking at the pot with its quivering leaves. His plants only shook when threatened. 

“A Mandrake,” the boy replied. “Their cries are deadly when they’re fully grown, but at this age they’ll just knock you out. You should be on the floor in a dead faint.”

“It’s a talent,” said Crowley breezily with a feral grin that made the young man step back involuntarily. “If I told you I’m not human, would that help?”

“No.” The boy looked concerned at that question.

“Ok. I won’t. . . . It’s a joke, kid. You can lighten up.”

_Does this one have no sense of humour?_ he thought.

“Who are you? One of the Weasleys? Their older brothers come visit from time to time.”

“Anthony Crowley, not related to any Weasleys. Or anyone for that matter. You can just call me Crowley.”

Crowley was stalking around the greenhouse now, making the young man rather nervous. He had shoved aside the Mandrakes still in need of repotting to keep his eyes on the demon, turning to stay facing him as he inspected the greenhouse.

“I’m Neville Longbottom. Professor Sprout should be back from her meeting any time now,” he said as if the threat of a teacher would chase Crowley off.

“She’ll be back after I leave,” replied Crowley with a hand gesture, arranging things so the meeting would last as long as he needed it to. “Don’t worry I’m not going to bite. I just have an interest in plants.”

Unbeknownst to Crowley, he had come within the range of the Venomous Tentacula, the carnivorous plant sending out a stealthy vine to ensnare him. Neville’s gaze flickered a moment to over Crowley’s shoulder, causing Crowley to turn around. Millennia of reflexes told him if someone was not staring directly at him when they probably should be, maybe he should check out what’s going on around him.

He grabbed the vine before it could touch him, leaning towards the Tentacula with a snarl. “Just you try it.” Deftly he snapped the vine off the terrified plant; it shrank back as the demon threw the severed portion aside. He stepped threateningly closer to it. “I’ve done far worse to lesser plants than you and you can sense that. I suggest you keep your vines to yourself.”

The once mighty Venomous Tentacula was reduced to a pitiful specimen, its remaining attached vines wrapped around the body of the plant. 

“That was actually impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Venomous Tentacula react like that. You must know your stuff,” said Neville. “But I still don’t know what you’re doing here. People don’t just show up at Hogwarts out of the blue.”

“I do. I’m not some Dark Wizard so calm down.” The young man still looked wary. Crowley soldiered on, deciding to name drop. “Hermione knows me. So do the Weasley twins. Ron and Harry kind of do and I’ve run into Luna, who’s just about the oddest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of running across. I know a little bit about you, like you’re good with plants and Hermione said you were spending the break here to help out your professor.”

“Oh.” Neville looked uncomfortable like he didn’t know what to say.

“Apparently you have a _Mimbulus mimbletonia _from what Hermione says? I have no idea what that is other than some kind of plant that’s very rare, very hard to care for and that you’re doing a great job with it.”

Neville brightened up considerably, hearing someone express interest in his hobby. “I have it right over here. I’ve been finding out some very interesting things about it lately.”

He pulled out a cactus-like plant covered in what looked like boils from its spot in the sunniest portion of the greenhouse. Crowley examined it. “You Wizards grow them weird, don’t you? Mine are all Muggle plants but they’re the best-looking Muggle plants in London.”

Neville was carefully looking over the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. “If you talk to them like you did the Venomous Tentacula, I’m not surprised. But you couldn’t treat this one like that. Can you shield?”

“Of course.”

“Done?” When Crowley nodded, Neville said, “Yell something at it.”

The demon insulted it loudly with the plant responding like it did when touched – by spraying Stinksap all over. It splashed on Crowley and Neville’s shields. The horrible smell had Crowley almost gagging.

“That’s disgusting,” he said, waving a hand to clean up the mess. _I could find a way to make that plant cower . . . just give me some time._

Neville gave him a small smile. He then murmured softly to the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, stroking it lightly. It shivered with delight, giving off a crooning sound in response. Crowley bent closet to inspect it.

“See? It responds to kindness.”

“Well I’ll be twice damned.”

“Twice? That doesn’t make sense,” said a confused Neville.

“Never mind,” muttered Crowley. “Colour me slightly impressed. Your strange magical flora seems to require quite some skill to work with. Especially if your professor allows you to work alone.” He paused a moment. “I want some.”

He wondered if he could smuggle out a few seeds. That Venomous Tentacula would be a fine addition to his collection but he could do without the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. Any plant that threw up a foul substance all over the local vicinity was not compatible with his method of growing things.

“What sort of plants to you have?” Neville asked after a few moments of silence while Crowley finished his inspection of the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. 

“Like I said, Muggle ones. Not nearly as exciting as these.”

“Muggle doesn’t mean boring,” replied Neville. “Some species are harder to grow than Wizard plants. Orchids, for instance. You have to have the right humidity, light, fertilizer and water to get them to thrive and bloom.”

Crowley nodded. “Very true. I tried my hand at them and had success, but I’m away from home too much to really make a go with them. What else interesting to you have around here?”

Neville pointed to a large plant whose red flower possessed a snarling mouth full of teeth, a Fanged Geranium. Crowley stepped closer to look at it, staying well out of the way of its gaping maw. It hissed at him; he hissed back, causing it to pull away from him, flower cocked to one side like it was confused something would threaten it.

“More bark than bite?” the demon asked.

“Yes.”

“I like it.” _I so have to get my hands on seeds._

Something in a dark, damp corner of the greenhouse screamed. Neville looked towards it. “Excuse me. I have to feed that.”

He headed off to the worktables where there was a bowl of ground-up meat. Crowley continued to look around, keeping a clandestine eye on Neville as he did. There was a set of drawers on the table about two meters from him that, if he was reading the labels right, was full of seeds. With Neville busy feeding the many mouths of the meat-eating plant, Crowley identified the drawers he wanted, slipping a few Fanged Geranium and Venomous Tentacula seeds in his pockets. 

He leaned casually on another worktable watching Neville; that is where Aziraphale and Hermione found him when they returned some time later. 

“Hi, Neville,” the young witch said. “I hope Crowley didn’t scare you too much.”

“He’s relatively harmless,” added Aziraphale before introducing himself. 

Neville just stared at Hermione a moment, then Crowley before responding. “So you weren’t kidding. You do know Hermione.”

“It was a delightful tour, but we’d best get back to the bookshop,” said Aziraphale. “I assume you’re coming with, Hermione?”

She nodded. “I’ll talk to you when break’s over,” she said to Neville. 

The three of them left the greenhouse. Neville just shook his head and kept working. Crowley and his friend seemed strange, but anyone who was friends with Hermione was all right in Neville’s book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "in a jiffy" and "two shakes of a lamb's tail" are a nod to what Aziraphale says to the Metatron in the series when encouraged to join Heaven in the War.
> 
> Crowley not publicly liking to admit he does read is from Neil Gaiman's comments on his Tumblr.


	6. Meeting McGonagall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s about time you came in and introduced yourself,” [Aziraphale] said. “I was about ready to put out a bowl of milk.”_
> 
> _Her hard exterior momentarily showed the slightest of cracks. “It’s impressive you know that, Mr. Fell. Most don’t notice me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired, but I'm putting this out there anyway. My other offering of the weekend is [How to Raise an Impossible Child](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114357/chapters/52780831) which is just starting to get off the ground. Go read it or I will use my Bat Bogey Hex on you. So there.

The woman who entered the bookshop looked as no-nonsense as Crowley did during his stint as Warlock Dowling’s nanny. Dressed in a tartan-patterned blouse with a brooch at her throat and a long black skirt her entire demeanor suggested she was not one who would suffer fools gladly and it was best not to get on her bad side.

Aziraphale barely looked up from the books he was placing on the display shelf in the middle of the oculus. He knew exactly who she was, why she was here and he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with her today. He had wished she had decided to stake out the bookshop for a couple of more days. He and Crowley had planned a trip to see a new exhibit at the Louvre and it would have been satisfying knowing she was sitting outside in her cat form cooling her heels for the three or four days they were gone. It really would have made the “hey remember that time I had to save your arse from getting guillotined” jokes he was going to have to endure during their holiday a little easier to handle.

“It’s about time you came in and introduced yourself,” he said. “I was about ready to put out a bowl of milk.”

Her hard exterior momentarily showed the slightest of cracks. “It’s impressive you know that, Mr. Fell. Most don’t notice me.” 

“You’d be surprised what I notice. So how can I help you?”

“I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, of Hogwarts School and we seem to have a problem with students wanting to investigate your bookshop while they’re here on breaks.”

“That seems to be more your problem to solve than mine. I evict them when I find them in here. This is a bookshop, not a stop on their silly scavenger hunts.”

Aziraphale gestured to the two chairs sitting by the pillars. She sat down in one, her back remaining ramrod straight. He took the other across from her. 

“It’s your pet snake they’re looking for,” Professor McGonagall said.

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t have a pet snake. But I will put up a sign saying that no children are allowed and hopefully that will solve the problem. I wouldn’t want you to have hang around here in cat form anymore. I realize how dreadfully boring that must be.”

“Mr. Fell, your attempts at humour are entirely inappropriate. This is serious. Now you either have a pet snake or there’s an unregistered Animagus you’re aware of,” she replied. “There are reports from students of an extremely large black snake with a red belly and yellow eyes who frequents this place. I’m going to have to tell the Ministry of Magic about this, Animagus or not. It’s important that children aren’t going off on hunts for unusual snakes. Not with You-Know-Who’s pet one slithering around out there.”

“Well I am quite positive that particular snake would not show its face here,” Aziraphale said. “Nor is there an Animagus running . . . slithering . . . around my bookshop. But you’re free to report away if you wish.”

_Making wizards on official business forget about me shouldn’t be any more difficult than making shady businessmen rethink their live choices._

“You’re being rather difficult, Mr. Fell.”

“It’s not my job to control your students, Professor McGonagall. That would be on their teachers and their parents.”

“You seem to know a lot about the wizarding world, but I know nothing about you. I know all the wizarding families in London thanks to my connections to Hogwarts,” she replied. “Who are you? A fairly new wizard in town?”

“I am not a wizard. What I am is a magical being in my own right, just one who prefers to work behind the scenes rather than reveal myself. Most humans cannot handle it when I do. The experience tends to slide right off their minds,” said Aziraphale. “As I told another witch who wondered what I was, you live in a world filled with magical creatures and beings, some you have no knowledge of. Just accept I’m a benign one that hasn’t and never will be discovered by your Ministry.”

That answer did not seem to sit well with her as she opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted by a god-awful clatter on the spiral staircase. Crowley bounded down without much care about the noise he was making.

“Aziraphale, I can’t find the . . .” He stopped dead upon seeing the angel had a guest. “I see the cat came in. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Young man, your jokes are not appreciated at this time,” she snapped in reply. “We are discussing serious business here.”

Aziraphale sighed in a very exasperated manner. Crowley’s timing couldn’t have been worse. _Of course he’d show up now._

“Anthony Crowley this is Professor Minerva McGonagall. Professor McGonagall, Anthony Crowley.” Aziraphale dearly wanted to add “professional nuisance” to that, but quickly stopped himself.

The cold look she gave Crowley could have caused his snake form to want to brumate. He stared blatantly right back at her. Aziraphale smiled politely at both of them.

“Sunglasses inside?”

“Eh . . . my eyes . . .”

“Yes, your eyes. Cursed?” It felt like she was staring through his dark glasses.

“You might say that,” said Crowley. “You’ve somehow heard.”

“There are rumours you are the snake that suns itself in this bookshop and you retain some serpentine features even when human.”

“They can say what they want. Now if you’ll excuse me a moment, I have something to search for.” Crowley disappeared into the backroom.

“And that’s no reason for your students to come around here,” interjected Aziraphale. 

McGonagall crossed her arms in front of her. “No, it’s not. But we live in dangerous times where children should not be hunting down the unknown. The question is if your colleague here is just as benign as you are.”

“How dare you imply such a thing,” Aziraphale replied angrily. “He is not harmless. I won’t lie about that but not being harmless does not mean someone is not a good person. We are all dangerous in our own ways. Besides, Anthony would never hurt children.”

“He’d better not or he’ll have me to answer to. I have one more question. Hermione Granger comes around here on her breaks. . .”

“She is not looking for a snake or any other kind of trouble. She enjoys knowledge as much as I do,” responded the angel.

“What are you teaching her?”

“How to interpret literature and prophecies. It’s what I can teach her that can hopefully aid her and her friends. They will end up fighting the enemy alone. That much I have seen.”

“They’re children. The only ones going to be fighting You-Know-Who are the adults in the Order of the Phoenix.”

Aziraphale wished he could explain it all to her. That he knew exactly what resided in Harry Potter’s scar and in the end it would be up to the boy to finish everything, but McGonagall was a no-nonsense type who wouldn’t hold with his assertions. He’d be viewed as simply some charlatan and that could possibly do harm to what needed to happen. The humans would have to figure it out themselves; all he could do was arm Hermione and her friends to the best of his abilities.

“They’re in a war against those who aren’t going to care if they’re young. Remember that,” Aziraphale replied. 

Professor McGonagall sat up straighter if that was even possible, an affronted look on her face. “We are well aware of that.”

“Then understand in two years’ time you won’t be able to protect them. So tell that Headmaster of yours to quit being cryptic and start educating those who will be doing the fighting," Aziraphale suggested. “I cannot say anymore than that. As I said, I work behind the scenes. I’m sorry I’ve been a bad host. Would you like some tea?”

“No thank you.” McGonagall smoothed down her practical black skirt. “I would like to return to the original reason I stopped by here. And don’t think I can’t see you standing over there by the till listening, Mr. Crowley.”

Aziraphale knew Crowley wanted to be seen. If he didn’t want her to notice him, then she wouldn’t have noticed him. The demon lazily pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on, walked over to the conversation, conjuring up a chair with a snap of his fingers.

_Oh, good lord. Don’t make it worse now that I’ve already made a mess of things._

“No wand,” McGonagall observed.

“No,” replied Crowley. “That’s beside the point. If your students want to spread all kinds of rumours about me, that’s fine. But you’re not going to come in here demanding that my colleague do something about them showing up. I believe that’s the school’s job to keep the children under control. Now maybe we can put some wards on the door if that’ll appease you, but I’d rather you just left us alone after this.”

“Crowley!” whispered Aziraphale, mortified.

“Also, go ahead, report me as an Animagus. I’m neither that nor a wizard. And anyone who shows up here to try to interrogate me will regret it.” He flicked out his tongue, which he had made long and forked. “Anyway, I have packing to do. It was a pleasure to meet you, Professor.”

Crowley headed back upstairs.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s . . . well . . . an acquired taste. But I will put wards on the doors. That’s it. If Miss Granger wishes to continue learning from me, I won’t deny her, nor will I take responsibility for your students who decide to come adventuring here. I am neither their parent nor teacher. Just know there is nothing in this shop that will harm them.”

The angel rose from his chair, Professor McGonagall doing to same. She stuck out her hand and Aziraphale shook it.

“I must say I do have some grudging respect for you, Mr. Fell. Miss Granger is free to come as she sees fit,” she said. “That’s a lovely tartan pattern on your bowtie, by the way. Good day.”

Having said her piece, she turned and showed herself out of the bookshop. Aziraphale watched her go. He had a feeling he’d run across her again sometime. At least he wasn’t on that formidable lady’s bad side. Crowley, on the other hand, might very well be. Aziraphale locked the door behind her, pulled down the shades then got to work on the warding spells to keep curious Hogwarts students out of his bookshop.

"How's your packing coming, Crowley?" he called upstairs. "Did you find what you needed?"

"I didn't need anything," came the reply. "I just didn't like the tone she was taking with you."

Aziraphale chuckled as he set the wards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've firmly established now that we're sometime in the timeline of _ Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ with this chapter and the one about the Weasley twins. Which works. The kids aren't too young and they have a couple of years before graduation.
> 
> I also think I unintentionally implied Aziraphale and Crowley just might be living together. Or Crowley spends so much time in the bookshop, he keeps some of his stuff in the flat upstairs. Either way works. :)


	7. The Basilisk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley senses the presence of a Basilisk at Hogwarts that must be taken care of before it causes trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two characters with unique speech patterns and I hope I didn't mess anything up. I found out what a bitch it is to have to make sure you're speaking with the right voice for the right character, especially when they're talking to each other. Let me know if you find mistakes. Thanks!

Crowley bolted upright in the dark of his bedroom, sniffing deeply as he did so. Beside him, Aziraphale mumbled in protest as the arm that had been draped across Crowley’s chest fell off to the bed beside him. Crowley turned to poke Aziraphale awake, tugging on the bright white Victorian style nightshirt he wore.

“Get up. We have a problem.”

Aziraphale muttered again, turning over and pulling Crowley’s luxurious blankets up over himself again as the demon got himself dressed and turned on the lights. With a snap of his fingers, the blankets hit the floor.

“Don’t make me regret the day I taught you to sleep.” He threw Aziraphale’s clothes at him. “Hogwarts might be in trouble.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked while fumbling with his nightshirt buttons. “What did you sense?”

“Basilisk. Another one might be trying to set up shop there.” Crowley pulled on his boots. “Will you hurry up?”

Aziraphale miracled himself fully dressed with gesture. “There. Let’s go.”

“Brace yourself,” said Crowley and they were no longer in the flat.

They stumbled on to Hogwarts’ grounds near the Forbidden Forest, Crowley groaning slightly with the effort of breaking through the spells layered over the school to prevent Apparating. Aziraphale eyed the small cabin to the right of them, visible in the early light of dawn, suggesting they move into a nearby copse of trees.

“What do we do?” he whispered.

“You see if you can find that cat lady professor to tell her what’s going on so the staff doesn’t come out here and liquefy me with spells. I’m going to track the thing. Hopefully it recognizes me as a higher on the food chain and I can convince it to leave without a fight,” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale nodded and ran off for the castle as fast as his soft angel form would allow him. Crowley changed every atom in his body from human to serpentine. Soon he was lying in the damp grass, a giant black and red snake larger than any species native to Earth. There. It was done. If the monster was within one hundred miles of here, it could sense him.

“The thingsss I do,” he muttered, flicking his tongue out. He could smell it. It was on the grounds. “Come and get me!” he shouted, hoping the damn thing could hear him. 

Turning into a snake to pull pranks in a bookshop was one thing; being outside among all its varied sounds and smells was quite another. Since he wasn’t a true snake, this form was a mix of senses. He could hear and see just fine, but his sense of smell was beyond human. He could smell the blood of the roosters slain in their sleep before they could crow. And his body was extremely sensitive to vibrations. The ones approaching him now spoke of heavy footfalls and overwhelmed him something terrible combined with the smell of blood. He tried to flee into the forest. 

Someone grabbed him by the tail causing him to react with a snake’s instincts. With an angry hiss, he twisted his body around, hooding at the giant, bearded man who held him fast. To his own embarrassment he attempted to bite him.

“Yer an unusual species ter be roaming ‘round here.” 

“You’re an unusssual perssson to be running around picking up ssstrange sssnakesss,” replied Crowley who found himself dangling from this man’s hands, unable to get his front half on a stable perch. “Now put me down. I’m doing sssome important tracking here.”

“Yeh speak!” exclaimed the man who was now wrestling with Crowley, determined to keep him from slithering away.

_For the love of all . . . Hell knows how many people are around this place and I run into some giant bloke who can bloody manhandle me. _

“Of courssse I do. I’m sssnake-shaped, not really a sssnake.” Crowley gave up struggling and coated his body with fire, causing the man to drop him with a yelp. “Ow. That’sss better. Now get out of here. There’sss a basssilisssk around I need to hunt down.”

“A basilisk? ‘Cept for the Serpent of Slytherin, there hasn’ been a basilisk in England in four hundred years. I should know. I’m Hagrid, groundskeeper and teacher of Care of Magical Creatures. Who or what are yeh?”

“Crowley. Experiensssed with sssnakesss. That’sss all you need to know.” He started to slither off, picking up a faint whiff of big angry snake. It was hanging around somewhere to the east where there were plenty of trees to hide in.

Hagrid was keeping pace with him, much to Crowley’s annoyance. “Yer not goin’ ter find anything. The basilisk was killed by Harry Potter. Crowley’s yer name, right? Not yer species? What kind of snake are yeh?”

_What is with this prat? _

“_Primum ssserpensss_. Now go away.” Crowley darted off into a patch of rather thick grass.

Hagrid stomped his way through it causing Crowley to lose track of the basilisk scent. It came back stronger than ever now that it knew a human was near. It was excited about prey. It hadn’t acknowledged Crowley yet and he hoped that meant that it feared him. He could see it in the distance.

“I never got ter see a basilisk,” Hagrid said as his long strides kept pace with Crowley’s fast slither.

“It’ll be the lassst thing you sssee if you aren’t careful.” Crowley paused, reared up and faced Hagrid. “You sssee that green shape just beyond thossse treesss? That’sss it. Now you’ve ssseen one. Sssorry to do thisss to you, but you’re in my way and you’re going to get yourssself killed.”

With a flick of Crowley’s tail Hagrid found himself blindfolded and bound to the strongest nearby tree Crowley could locate in a hurry. With the groundskeeper safe, he quickly went to meet his rival.

“Hey! What gives? Crowley!”

_So long, sucker._

The basilisk was huge, even beyond Crowley’s current size. With a demonic miracle, he increased it to be as big as the beast he was about to face off against. The monster had spotted him, racing over to meet him halfway then rearing in dominance. Pissed off, Crowley reared even higher, hooding in the process. The dance began as they spoke in a series of hisses.

“Find a new home!” spat Crowley. “You’re not welcome here.”

“This place is mine. The Chamber requires a new serpent,” replied the basilisk.

“Leave. I protect this place and I will not tolerate you here.”

Slithering around him, the beast laughed. “And who are you? You won’t even look me in the eye. You know what I can do. I am the king of serpents” 

It struck before Crowley could move his bulky coils out of its way, a fang catching his side and burrowing deep. He screamed with the pain as the thing taunted him to look at it and name himself. Gritting his teeth, he turned to stare it directly in the face. It froze in shock as it realized its gaze held no power over him.

“Who am I? I am the Serpent of Eden. I am the First. King? So what? I am your_ god_.” With two swift strikes he put out the basilisk’s eyes.

The reptile screamed in pain. “Please, lord! I will do anything for you! Command me to do your will!”

“I don’t want anything from you,” replied Crowley. He wrapped his formidable coils around the giant snake, took its head in his jaws and crushed it. Dropping everything he fell to the ground, becoming human-shaped in the process, blood leaking out of the wound in his side. “Ngk. That was the most _disgusting_ thing I’ve ever done in my life. Oh. Yeah. Venom.”

Concentrating like he did when he removed alcohol from his bloodstream, he hissed with pain as he felt the basilisk’s poison leave his system. Panting hard, he freed Hagrid from the tree he had bound him to. The groundskeeper came running.

“Hagrid, dude . . . Can I get a little help here? I’m not feeling that great.” Crowley passed out from the pain before he could start to heal. 

Aziraphale peered out the Great Hall’s windows, along with Professor McGonagall and an older gentleman he now knew as Professor Dumbledore, as Hagrid approached the castle’s front gates carrying the limp Crowley. Bursting out of the front door, he looked at the demon in the groundskeeper’s arms and set a hand to his forehead. The two professors followed him.

“Please, bring him to the Great Hall, my good fellow.”

“He looks like he was bit by the basilisk. He needs Fawkes!” burst out Hagrid, who then turned to Dumbledore. “Professor. . .”

Dumbledore held up a hand. “Hagrid, please do as Mr. Fell requests. Fawkes is waiting if needed.”

“He’s goin’ ter die!”

“He’ll be fine, but he’s going to bleed to death if you don’t go put him down on a bench in the Great Hall like I asked,” Aziraphale said a little more shortly than he intended. 

Approaching the bench where Hagrid laid Crowley, Aziraphale passed his hand over the wound while the three others watched in wonder as it knit itself shut and Crowley’s eyes fluttered open. His hands went immediately to his face where he didn’t feel sunglasses. Aziraphale miracled up a pair for him to put on before he sat up.

“Thanks, angel,” he said quietly.

The demon sat up, wishing away the blood that seeped through his clothing. Standing a bit groggily, he shook off his muzzy-headed feeling before turning to the humans. He grinned, gesturing to grounds vaguely.

“Yeah, there’s a large snake body out there you might want to take care of. I hope you don’t have more of those things running around because I tasted basilisk brains today and I don’t _ever_ want to do that again.”

He swaggered out the door, still a bit wobbly from his adventure. Aziraphale looked after him then turned to the humans with a smile.

“Thank you all for your assistance, especially you . . .” he paused, waiting for Hagrid to supply a name then continuing when he received it. “Hagrid, for bringing Anthony back. I do so appreciate it. Professor McGonagall, it was nice to see you again, despite the circumstances. Professor Dumbledore, I would love to chat with you sometime. Call on me at my bookshop. I had better see to him. He’s going to need a bit of attention after what he’s been through.”

“It was great ter meet yeh,” replied Hagrid, a bit confused by all that occurred.

“I’ll send you an owl, Mr. Fell,” said Dumbledore.

“Goodbye, Mr. Fell,” McGonagall said with a curt nod.

Hagrid turned to the other as soon as Aziraphale followed Crowley out. “Those two were odd. One can become a giant snake an’ the other can heal away basilisk venom. What are they?”

“Beyond our understanding. Hagrid, can you see to burning the body, please?” said Dumbledore. 

When Hagrid left, the two professors walked to Dumbledore’s office where they could speak privately.

“So he _is_ the snake in the bookshop,” said McGonagall. “But what exactly they are I don’t know. Mr. Fell would only say they’re magical beings in their own right. But who can destroy a basilisk with such ease _and_ heal its poison without needing phoenix tears?”

“The basilisk might be the king of serpents, but there’s one snake who is above them.”

“And what would that be?”

“The Serpent of Eden,” Dumbledore replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s not even possible,” snorted McGonagall. “Bible stories like that are just morality stories. Plus it would make Mr. Crowley at the very least a malevolent spirit, if not the devil himself. Mr. Fell said they’re benevolent beings which they proved today by getting rid of that basilisk . . . like a couple of guardian angels . . .” But the thought soon slipped off her mind.

Dumbledore, being far more observant and having a far more trained mind in such matters, merely filed his own suspicions away. He and Mr. Fell would have an interesting discussion later when they met for tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ Primum serpens _ is Latin for "first snake" if I translated it correctly.
> 
> Yep, it's going to be Dumbledore and Aziraphale next time. And I'm going to somehow find a way to get Crowley to The Burrow to meet all the Weasleys because that would just be hilarious if I can write it correctly. They'd probably adopt him into the family. 😉


	8. Tea with Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The owl hooted before Crowley carried it to the door and released it into the air. He watched it disappear into the London skyline. “What was that about?”_
> 
> _“I’m merely confirming tea with Dumbledore tomorrow at four o’clock. You’re invited, too, if you’d like to come.”_

Being more interested in books than he let on, Crowley always spent a couple of minutes looking over the new merchandise Aziraphale got in. Today he was perusing some used hardcovers that were part of a recently popular fantasy series when he heard a gentle tap on the window pane. Putting the book he was holding down, he went over to find a large barred owl waiting patiently on the window sill.

Curious, he opened the door, the owl flying in to land on his wrist, a parchment envelope in its beak. Closing the door, he looked over the strange sight perched on his arm before noticing Aziraphale approaching. 

“The post’s here,” he said to the angel, carefully taking the envelope from the owl to hand to him.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale accepted the envelope, examining the bird. “Interesting. This owl’s native to North America. They must be breeding them for their owl postal service. Seems rather reckless as a birdwatcher would readily identify this as a non-native species.”

“That’s their problem,” said Crowley. “Should I just let it go now?”

“No, I need to send an answer, just a moment.” Aziraphale was at the till writing his reply on a piece of stationary he then stuffed in an envelope and handed back to the owl. “Please take this to Professor Dumbledore.”

The owl hooted before Crowley carried it to the door and released it into the air. He watched it disappear into the London skyline. “What was that about?”

“I’m merely confirming tea with Dumbledore tomorrow at four o’clock. You’re invited, too, if you’d like to come.” 

“I might. Do I actually have to stay for tea and boring conversation?” Crowley asked. 

“Heaven forbid you should actually be sociable when there’s no alcohol involved. Shall we go have dinner?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

They left the bookshop, returning several hours later for cuddles, conversation and wine in the backroom before Crowley stumbled upstairs to bed, being too lazy to sober up enough to drive back to his own flat. 

“Care to join me?” he asked Aziraphale before disappearing for the night.

“Maybe later, my dear. I’m going to get all my research on the troubles of the Wizarding world together first,” the angel replied, giving him a kiss.

“All right. Good night.” The demon disappeared.

He awoke briefly the next morning to find Aziraphale sleeping up against his side. Eventually both of them rose, if only one of them shone, to go about their day until it was time to leave. Aziraphale put the last book on his new display, stepping back to give it one final look before turning to Crowley, who was sitting in one the chairs near the pillars reading a newspaper. 

“It’s a quarter to four and the place is empty. Are you coming with or would you rather stay here?”

“It’ll get boring here.” Crowley stood up, folding his newspaper. “Let’s go.”

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was just finishing up a visit with Hagrid at his hut when the two he was expecting appeared suddenly on the grounds not too far from Hagrid’s garden where they stood talking. Telling Hagrid he would speak with him later, he started towards the bickering pair.

“You could have warned me.”

“I said ‘let's go.’ What more warning did you need?”

“I left my documents behind and the directions to Professor Dumbledore’s office because you didn’t give me a chance to grab them.”

“Like you can’t just conjure them up, angel.”

Dumbledore waited patiently before announcing his arrival. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. It was nice of you both to come. Please, follow me.”

They walked the distance to the third floor of the castle where the Headmaster’s office was, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Stopping before an ugly gargoyle he spoke his current password and the gargoyle partially moved aside before eyeing Crowley.

“Are you sure you want to allow him entrance?” it asked Dumbledore.

“He’ll be fine, thank you.” 

The gargoyle move aside the rest of the way, Crowley shooting it a dirty look as he walked past it up the stairs into a large entryway full of portraits of slumbering people, and noisy silver instruments on spindly tables. They walked in to a larger circular room containing curio cabinets full of books, a desk on a dais and a sitting area under a loft that held a circular window with a telescope in front of it.

Dumbledore led them around to the sitting area where there sat a coffee table laden with scones, clotted cream, jam, a variety of biscuits, a teapot and everything else needed to make a cuppa. Three matching armchairs in red and gold surrounded the table, close enough for occupants to get tea and snacks.

Crowley looked over his shoulder at Aziraphale. “That hat is staring at me,” he whispered, indicating the tattered object sitting on the top of the last curio cabinet before they entered the sitting area.

“You’d have done well in Gryffindor,” called the Sorting Hat to Crowley. “You have daring, nerve, determination and some bravery. But you are also reckless, impulsive and have a hard time always following the rules.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Good to know. At least you wouldn’t have stuck me in the snake house. Enough’s enough.”

Dumbledore invited them to sit down. “The Sorting Hat would find you fascinating, Mr. Crowley. Please help yourself to the refreshments.”

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale, pouring himself some tea and taking a biscuit. “So to what do we owe this invitation?” he asked while watching Crowley immediately change his drink into coffee. 

“I had my suspicions that there was more in this world than we humans could understand and I believe that I have finally met in you two that which I will never be able to fully comprehend.”

“That is a distinct possibility,” said Aziraphale carefully.

“I’m interested in knowing if my theories are true,” replied Dumbledore.

“Why, yes. I am a demon but I have no allegiance to Hell anymore, not that I ever did in the first place. All I ever did was ask questions which was all it took to Fall.” Crowley stood up. “I’m out. I have no patience to do this coy little dance with an old wizard. I’ll be exploring the castle if you need me.”

He strolled out, Aziraphale shrugging in response. “My apologies but whoever said the Serpent was the most subtle of beasts never actually met him.”

“The only creature who could so easily best a basilisk would be the Serpent of Eden.”

“I see beating around the bush with you is not going to be useful.” Aziraphale paused to take a sip of his tea and to add a bit of dramatic flair even if he wouldn’t admit it. “Yes, he was the Serpent; I guarded the Eastern Gate. But my belief is things went according to the ineffable Plan. Neither of us have allegiance to our former sides anymore so we guard Earth which has been our home since the beginning.”

“You two seem to have taken Hogwarts under your wings. Why are you giving the school special protection?”

“We’ve become invested in some of your current and former students. We know what is coming and that basilisk was just the start. I do apologize for that mess you had to clean up after the whole incident,” said Aziraphale. “Normally he would have just killed it by less messy means but when he’s in snake form sometimes reptilian instincts take over. Now how about you answer a few questions for me?”

Dumbledore indicated he should continue. 

“When are you going to tell Harry Potter about that part of Voldemort’s soul residing in his scar?”

“When the time is right.”

Aziraphale glared at him. “This is no time to be cryptic. You know full well those kids are going to be the ones fighting this war. They need to go in with all the knowledge you can give them. You must tell him soon. I’d say this year. He’s old enough to know what’s going on.”

“Horcruxes are tricky things, Mr. Fell. You must murder another human being to split your soul and the object it’s in must be destroyed to destroy the part,” replied Dumbledore. “To tell Harry about the Horcrux is to tell him about his own death.”

Aziraphale absorbed this for a moment before speaking. “Maybe not. I could tie him to Earth, but it would mean tying him to Voldemort. I assume Voldemort still houses a bit of his soul in himself? I cannot see even wizards being able to hide their entire souls outside their bodies. As long as Voldemort is alive when Harry dies, he’ll have the choice to stay on Earth or pass into the afterlife. The link will break when Voldemort dies. That’s all the protection I can offer.”

“But Harry cannot know this, can he?”

“No. He can’t know I’m an angel or that Crowley’s a demon. Most humans can’t even register that fact or retain it. You’ve opened your mind enough to see us for what we are and can handle the truth.” Aziraphale looked down at the biscuit he held that he had yet to take a bite of. “But in return for this favour, you must tell him the truth about his scar.”

“I will,” said Dumbledore solemnly.

Aziraphale didn’t quite trust him to. This was a man who enjoyed his secrets, his mysterious presence. It would be up to him and Crowley to keep these kids as safe as possible. Aziraphale was doing what he could by teaching Hermione to interpret prophecies and stories with hidden meanings. The Wizarding world seemed to work partially on intrigue and unsettlingly enough Professor Trelawney had made a true prediction just two years ago if what Hermione had told him was correct. She appeared to be no Agnes Nutter, but true prophecies weren’t supposed to happen among humans. Heaven shut that down as soon as they caught wind of it. Yet Agnes slipped through the cracks, didn’t she?

“I’ll invite Harry to come along with Hermione the next time I meet with her. It can be done then,” said Aziraphale brusquely. “Now what else is going on that I need to know about? Do you have agents in Voldemort’s camp?”

“Yes, one,” said Dumbledore. “But I worry sometimes about Professor Snape being a double agent. My concern is that he will end up getting killed. I want to be able pull him out if needed. Would Mr. Crowley be willing to replace him in that instance? A demon could protect himself a lot better than a mere human.”

Aziraphale set down his teacup. “That cannot happen. That is up to your people. Even if I could ask him that, I wouldn’t. He’s played double agent enough at his own peril lately.”

“Fair enough.”

“They’ll come for you, eventually, Professor. I can offer you and yours a safe haven in my London bookshop if it’s needed. We can heal those who need it if worst comes to worst. We can protect in battles. But we can’t get directly involved.” Aziraphale spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “The rule against direct involvement comes from God Herself. We cannot sidestep it even if we are now on our own side.”

“Thank you. Given the Ministry’s sudden interest in clamping down on those who know Voldemort is back, we might have need of sanctuary,” replied Dumbledore. “Thank you, A.Z. May I call you A.Z, although I doubt that is your real name?”

“True names are power, Professor. Now, I should probably collect Crowley and head back to London,” Aziraphale stood up with a smile, adding just so Dumbledore didn’t get any ideas. “Crowley is what he calls himself. Even I don’t know the name he was given when he was created and I’ve known him for six thousand years. It was lovely to meet you, Albus.”

Aziraphale did not see him again until mid-year when the Headmaster showed with his phoenix in a flash of fire asking to stay due to unrest in the Ministry. It startled both Crowley and Aziraphale who were having an impromptu snog, Crowley readying some offensive magic as they separated quickly.

Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder and Crowley relaxed his stance. “You are welcome here, Albus, as long as you need to stay. But if that phoenix accidentally burns any of my books, I shall be very put out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an idea for my next Crowley chapter, but I'm willing to take suggestions. Several chapters have come to be because people said they'd like to see one or the other of our ineffable duo meet up with a certain HP character.


	9. In the Corridors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape encounters Crowley in the corridors of Hogwarts. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Crowley sat in the little alcove full of puffy chairs and conveniently placed tables next to Aziraphale listening to him verbally spar with Professor Dumbledore. He stared down at the teacup whose liquid he had changed to coffee suddenly wishing for something stronger. This was going to get tedious and he had no patience for it. 

So he left. Aziraphale could easily handle the situation without him and his temper.

The Sorting Hat watched him stalk out of the alcove. “A demon with a heart in Gryffindor would be interesting.”

“Shut up. I’m not nice.”

“Even you don’t believe that,” the hat called after him.

“You know less than you think you do.” Crowley exited down the stairs past the gargoyle. “You keep your mouth shut.”

It did.

Now what sort of trouble could he get up to? Classes didn’t appear to be in session yet, so the halls were empty; he could explore without being asked questions, like “who are you?” and “what’s with the sunglasses?” What he didn’t realize was that the paintings could talk.

“Intruder!” screeched a knight in a tall one along the corridor as Crowley passed by.

He followed him through several paintings until the demon finally turned to address him. Conjuring up a fireball in one hand, he smiled a rather sharp smile at the errant knight. The knight stepped back, almost tripping over the painting’s original subjects, who scrambled off out of the frame.

“You want to duel?” asked Crowley. “Personally I don’t think it’s a good idea. A painting that old has to be rather dry and brittle. Shall we find out if it’s nothing more than so much kindling?”

The knight fled back to his original frame. But although the painting was empty, Crowley was not alone. He could feel the presence of another behind him. Millennia of dealing with other demons had honed his instincts.

A dark-haired wizard wearing black robes with a hint of iridescent green and a dour look on his face was pointing a wand at him. “Who are you and how did you get in this castle?”

“Eek, a stick! I’m so scared!” mocked Crowley. “Put that thing away before you poke someone’s eye out. Your magic is of no use against me.”

“You did not answer my questions,” the wizard replied. He appeared to be concentrating, wand still up. 

Crowley hadn’t extinguished the fireball for that matter. But his concentration wavered causing it to flicker slightly. He felt a tickle in his brain, like someone was trying to see his thoughts. His eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses.

_You dare try to read my mind?_

His lip curled up in distain as he slammed shields around his mind, the tickle vanishing. “That’s not a smart idea. My thoughts and memories could burn out your mortal brain.”

“Nobody is that powerful,” the wizard replied, although he looked concerned. Crowley knew why. It took a strong talent to notice subtle mind-reading and a powerful ability to block it, to shut another out so quickly and completely. “Who are you?”

“I go by Anthony Crowley,” the demon replied. “You are Severus Snape, former Potions teacher, now teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don’t know why you want the position. It’s cursed. I felt that the moment I stepped in this castle. It practically _screamed_ it. Is that Voldemort’s doing?”

“Do not say that name,” Snape growled. “We need to talk somewhere more private, Mr. Crowley. You seem to know a lot. Why?”

“Eh, talent,” replied Crowley, shrugging. 

Snape led him back to his study, winding his way down through the corridors to Hogwarts’ dungeons where his office was located. It was a gloomy room, slightly damp and poorly lit. The walls were completely covered in shelves containing various types of potion ingredients. A crackling fireplace was to the right of the desk with a leather chair in front of it. 

“Cozy,” commented Crowley. “Needs a few plants. I bet that screaming meat-eating one the Herbology professor has would be very happy down here.”

He turned the leather chair around so it was facing the desk and indolently sat in it, warming his back.

Snape pulled the chair out from behind his desk, setting it down uncomfortably close to Crowley’s. Sitting in it, he leaned forward to look the demon directly in the eyes. Crowley responded with a flick of his finger, pushing Snape’s chair back a metre or so.

“No wand. Pretty cool, huh?”

“What are you then?” Snape rose to stalk around Crowley the best he could with a fireplace in the way. He paced back and forth in three-fourths of a circle, examining Crowley like he was an unwanted pest. Crowley was used to it. He’d spent a lot of time playing the part of an unwanted pest. He simply watched Snape.

“Formerly I was a professional nuisance. Some believe that has not changed much. Now . . . you might say I’m more of a guardian spirit. My friend, who is upstairs having a talk with Professor Dumbledore, and I guard the Earth. You might also say this whole Voldemort issue has caught our attention.”

“That tells me nothing.”

“That tells you everything I can tell a human. We have natural defenses so we can blend in. What I truly am would just slide off your mind as soon as I told you.”

_What is this guy’s problem? Oh . . . I see now . . . double agent . . . of course he’d have trust issues._

“Sssso, working for Dumbledore and Voldemort. Whose side are you really on?” Crowley stood up to look Snape directly in the eye. “Better tell the truth. I can read minds a lot better than you can. I’ll know if you lie.”

“I was a Death Eater, but I repudiated after the attack on Lily Potter even though the Dark Lord doesn’t know that. I now pass information to Professor Dumbledore,” he replied with a sneer. “This is really none of your business.”

“Guardian spirit, remember?” snapped Crowley. “Anything that threatens this Earth _is_ my business. And your little Dark Lord problem is turning into quite a threat, especially since I make my home on this very island.” He gave Snape a piercing look. “When’s your next meeting? I’d like to come along.”

“I cannot just bring guests along, Mr. Crowley.”

“And I’m not asking you to,” Crowley replied. “I can’t get directly involved. It goes against the rules. But I can make myself undetectable to humans, even your Dark Lord. I’ll just be a fly on the wall. I need to know exactly what we’re up against and direct observation is the best way.”

“You’re asking me to put a lot of trust in you. This is not something I am willing to do,” Snape said as he sat back down. “How do I know if you’re telling the truth? If you’re even a benign sprit?”

“All right, I will tell my story in terms you can understand. I was on the side of light until I asked too many questions and was cast out into the darkness with those infinitely more evil than me. But my loyalty was never to my new side. It is to humanity and always has been. So I worked for millennia to keep you silly, clever little humans as safe as I could even at possible great personal cost. You’re not the only double agent here. Now, my counterpart and I are on our own side. It’s Earth and its inhabitants we protect, not the interests of our former sides.”

Snape nodded warily. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t quite trust you. Stories of spirits? Light and dark sides? Double agent spirit beings? It seems rather implausible.”

“Think what you want, but I suggest you start taking me seriously. We can help, not directly get involved in your battle, but we’re powerful enough it just might turn the tide. What do I need to do to convince you?” Crowley stood up. “I’m sure the staff was informed about the new basilisk who tried to set up shop here. Or at least you were, being in the double agent position you’re in. I’m the one who took care of it.”

Snape found himself eye-to-eye with a rearing man-sized black and red snake. He gripped the arms of his chair, leaning back as far as he could. Nagini was big enough, but this Serpent was easily double her size.

“You know of any malevolent ssspiritsss who would fight a basssilisssk to the death for the sssake of a ssschool?” He paused but received no answer. “I didn’t think ssso. Sssend me an owl at A.Z. Fell’sss bookshop in London with the nexxxt meeting date. I’m sssure you’re clever enough to find a way to disssguissse it. I need to obssserve firssst-hand what we’re up againssst. Glad I bumped into you. Good day.”

He returned to his favourite shape then strode out before Snape could either agree to or turn down his request. Best to behave like he was in charge here. It was more likely that owl would come if he behaved like it was already a done deal. Aziraphale would disapprove of his actions, but he’d cross that bridge when the time came. Maybe over a romantic dinner for two at the Ritz. It was easier to get him to go along with schemes when Crowley had wined and dined him.

The rest of his time in the castle consisted of conversing with paintings and exploring classrooms. Nothing else particularly interesting happened. Aziraphale found him sometime later, filling him in on the meeting while they looked for a secluded place to disappear back to the bookshop.

“I wonder how many students come here to snog?” murmured Crowley as he did just that briefly with Aziraphale before they left for London.

They enjoyed a concert later to clear their minds of the heavy thoughts of the day. Chances were they’d discuss a plan of action for the whole Wizarding world problem tomorrow. Neither one of them thought Dumbledore would give out all the information he needed to, as well-intentioned as he was. It would be up to them to fill in what blanks they could for those involved. As much as they could given the constraints on their involvement.

Crowley drove the two of them back to his flat where they enjoyed a film while cuddling on the couch before turning in for the night. He spooned up next to Aziraphale content to fall asleep with his angel’s arms around him.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped back open as he felt something approach his balcony. Nothing could get into his place if he didn’t want it to unless it was a higher-ranking demon and they didn’t bother him anymore. But what was hovering outside his flat was not a demon. 

Carefully he tried to wiggle out of Aziraphale’s embrace without waking him, but failed miserably.

“Where are you going, dear?” the angel asked sleepily.

“I thought I heard something on the balcony. Probably just a bird. I’m going to go get rid of it.”

“Hurry back.”

Crowley got up to let the owl in, taking the letter from it and launching it back out into the night air. Clever birds, those post owls. He had asked Snape to send it to the bookshop. They must have had some magic bred into them if they were able to find recipients with such ease.

Reading the note with a smile, he placed it on his desk before returning to bed. 

In two days’ time he’d be going to Malfoy Manor to be a fly on the wall of Voldemort’s meeting with his most trusted Death Eaters. What information he gathered there would prove useful to him and Aziraphale in aiding their understanding of the enemy their allies faced. 

Now he just had to tempt the angel into seeing his point of view. Hopefully dinner at the Ritz would be enough. They were all out of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next month it's Crowley meeting the Weasleys (at least Arthur, Molly and the kids still at home because I have an idea about him encountering Bill in Egypt). I need ideas for Aziraphale if you have any. :) Unless I do 2 connected chapters where they're both invited to dinner at the Burrow or something. Let me know!
> 
> I'd also like to note that while I'm showing Aziraphale's and Crowley's relationship blossoming as we go on, it's going to remain G-rated. This story's about their world crossing paths with the Wizarding one so that will always be the main focus.


	10. A Toad by Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unusual magic use is detected by the Ministry of Magic in Soho and Mayfair. Delores Umbridge is sent to investigate but Aziraphale is having none of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during the summer, so Umbridge has not yet been appointed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

They sat together on the couch, heads bent over Crowley’s mobile as he pulled up examples of enclosed bookcases for Aziraphale to peruse. The angel’s book collection was always increasing and he now found himself in need of some more enclosed cases in which to store more delicate items. He looked over the selection at the online store Crowley had clicked on.

“Are the finishes acid-free?” he asked, putting on his reading glasses and bending closer to the mobile’s small screen. “I will not risk my collection.”

“It’s not like you can’t change that if needs be,” replied Crowley. “Just find something you like and we’ll make it work. You’re not bound by Heaven’s stupid frivolous use of magic rules anymore.”

Aziraphale was about to respond when he was interrupted by the jingle of the bookshop’s bell announcing someone’s arrival. He was sure he had locked that door. Rolling his eyes at Crowley, he got up to see who had come in. 

“We’re closed for lunch. Be open in an hour,” he said to the short stocky woman standing in the entryway. “That door wasn’t supposed to be unlocked.”

He looked upon a woman who, even in Aziraphale’s dated opinions about fashion, was woefully unaware of how to dress her best. She wore a garish pink suit with a little black velvet bow that sat on top of her hair like the world’s stupidest fly courting danger on the head of a toad.

“Dear . . . someone . . .” Crowley, who was now standing behind him, whispered in his ear. “She looks like a female Hastur.”

She tittered in a girlish manner that was unbecoming for her actual age. “I just let myself in. I figured witch to magical creature, you wouldn’t mind. I’m Delores Umbridge, Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic. We would have sent the Head of the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but he’s out sick with a bad case of mumblemumps. I volunteered.”

“Magical creature?” asked Aziraphale in his most unamused voice as he came out into the bookshop proper to confront her. “Do I _look_ like a creature?”

“You’re obviously not a wizard. If you were the Ministry would have known about you since birth. But in an effort to regulate all magical creatures, we’ve developed new ways of detecting non-wizard magic. There seems to be a lot of it coming out of here and a location west of here that the Muggles call ‘Mayfair’,” Umbridge said. “It’s a strange sort of magic. We can detect but not identify it. You’re definitely not one of the registered Beings or Beasts with the Ministry. Is there some place we can talk? This is a problem that really needs to be worked out.”

“My apologies, but I happen to see no problem here. I do not fall under any jurisdiction but my own. It was lovely of you to stop by! Good day!”

Swiftly he grabbed her by the arm and escorted her out the door, locking it behind her. Brushing off his hands he returned to his office, where Crowley leaned on the till counter with a grin on his face.

“It’s not nice to manhandle the customers,” he said.

“She was hardly a customer. Anyway, where were we?” asked the angel. “Oh yes, bookshelves. What would you think about ordering those with the dark finish for me? They would blend in well with the ones I already have.”

“On it.” Crowley made a few swipes, entered a bit of information. “Done.”

Mission accomplished, they enjoyed some quick take out from the sushi place down the way before Aziraphale reopened the bookshop while Crowley took off to run some errands. Later that evening he picked up Aziraphale for dinner then drove them both back to his flat where they lost themselves in binge watching some shows until they realized the sun had risen. 

Aziraphale wiggled out from under their shared blanket, miracling his clothing wrinkle-free. “I think I’m starting to see the appeal of television. Not that I will ever own one, but it seems to be quite the way to pass a few hours if you can’t think of anything else to do.”

“Uh, yeah. You could put it that way. Do you need breakfast before we head to the bookshop?” Crowley said in his ear as he came up behind Aziraphale to hold him.

“In a while, my dear. It’s still so early. A walk would be nice, though.”

Several hours and one breakfast later they were back at the bookshop, Aziraphale fumbling with the keys. Crowley waited patiently even though he was well known for entering the bookshop even when it was locked.

“Hem hem.” The high-pitched girlish cough came from behind them.

Aziraphale turned around. “Yes?” he asked in his most irritated voice. “I thought our conversation was over yesterday. Do you have some reason returning?”

“We weren’t finished,” replied Delores Umbridge. “We were in the middle of an important discussion when you rudely threw me out.”

She had brought reinforcements this time – two large Aurors in suits. Aziraphale stood alone on the pavement. He assumed Crowley slipped inside unseen to hide in the office or backroom. The demon liked the element of surprise on his side if backup was needed.

“I have a bookshop to open and no time for these shenanigans of yours,” retorted Aziraphale coldly. Having said his piece, he entered, closing the door behind him.

Three _cracks_ announced their arrival by Apparition, Aziraphale not warding against that when he set the wards to keep Hogwarts students out. He hadn’t had known about that ability at the time and students couldn’t Apparate anyway.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

“I can see that,” replied Aziraphale. “But this little annoyance has gone too far. I refuse to be harassed . . . now please leave.”

“All you need to do is answer a few simple questions,” she said sweetly as she seated herself in the nearest chair. “Or I could ask you to come back to the Ministry where they’re less friendly about it. We cannot have unknown species running around unregulated.”

_Oh, good Lord._

Aziraphale put on his best smile and suddenly decided to play along, sitting himself down in the chair across from her. “As I said I don’t recognize the Ministry of Magic as having jurisdiction over me. But what are your questions? Also, I’d rather do this privately.”

Aziraphale pulled his fingers down in a snap. The two Aurors disappeared to find themselves suddenly in a broom cupboard in the British Museum. Aziraphale figured a little education wouldn’t go amiss. They looked like a couple of thugs in need of some culture.

He glanced quickly over towards the till where he saw Crowley sitting on the counter invisible to mortals. He nodded at the angel, letting him know he was ready to take action if needed. Until Aziraphale required help, he would stay out of the way.

The smile disappeared from Umbridge’s face. She pulled her wand out. “I would like to know what you have done with my colleagues.”

“They are fine. I just sent them to a museum. Hopefully they’ll get something out it,” replied Aziraphale dismissively. 

“You didn’t use a wand.”

“I am not a wizard; therefore I do not need one. Is this a problem?” He gave a brilliant smile.

She appeared taken aback that she was not the only one here who could combine a sweet tone with not-so-sweet responses. “No, no problem at all. You look human.”

“Well, I do have a human body.”

“But you have magical abilities.”

“Of a sort, yes.”

“No humans can do magic like you did without a wand . . .” Umbridge protested, her face becoming red with anger. “So what are you?”

“That’s a rude question. I didn’t ask you what you are. I assume you’re a person,” Aziraphale replied primly. “Did you just come here to insult me?”

“I did not come here to insult anyone! I came here to find out what is up with the strange magic that we have discovered coming from this place.”

“Well I find it insulting that you ask me such questions. I mean, really! Not that there’s anything wrong with other species, but it’s still inappropriate to ask.”

“But . . .” Umbridge sputtered. “But we do have registered Beings who are very human-like. Are there any more like you?”

“Of course.”

Crowley took that as a cue to walk in. “Hi.”

“There are only two of you?” she asked. 

“In the bookshop, yes. Outside of it there are many more,” said Aziraphale.

“But I’m not _quite _like him. Different political party, you might say,” Crowley added, giving a bright smile.

“Different political party?” Umbridge asked.

“Of course!” said Aziraphale. “What do you take us for?”

“But only humans really engage in politics.”

“Exactly!” said Aziraphale. 

“Oh, come on now, angel. You know our kind engages in politics of all types,” said Crowley.

“Your kind? So you’re not human.” Umbridge looked triumphant. “I knew it! Are you mates? You called him ‘angel’.” 

“Well, he _is_ an angel. Wings, halo . . . you know.” Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Do you have a halo? It’s been so long I don’t remember.”

“No,” replied Aziraphale. “No halo. That was some artist’s idea. Can you imagine having a circle of light over your head constantly?”

“Yeah . . . it would make it hard to sleep at night.”

“Angels?” screeched a now-hysterical Umbridge, seeing them for what they were. “You’re _angels_?”

“Actually I’m a demon,” said Crowley. “But same basic stock.”

The woman looked like she could no longer cope, her eyes glassing over as she stared from Aziraphale to Crowley.

“Now that we have it all sorted out, I’m sure you have a lot to do today, so we really shouldn’t keep you.” Aziraphale stood up.

Crowley was pulling her to her feet despite her protests. Angel on one side, demon on the other, they escorted her to the door. Aziraphale modified her memory on the way then took care of this magic detection system the Ministry of Magic had developed. They didn’t need officials showing up again.

“Why am I here again?” Umbridge asked weakly.

“It’s a bookshop,” said Aziraphale. “I assumed you were here to buy books, but then you started ranting on about politics so I wondered if you forgot breakfast and had gotten peckish. I suggest the café down the way.” He pointed down the street where you could see the sign. “Do try their scones. You won’t regret it. Goodbye now!”

With a gentle shove he pushed the confused witch out the door shutting it behind her. Crowley smirked at Aziraphale as the angel took his hand.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen your bastard side,” he commented, giving him a kiss.

“Bastard side?” asked Aziraphale innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Giving Crowley’s hand a squeeze, he started his duties for the day.

Later that week the pair was at Flourish and Blott’s so Aziraphale could root around for wizarding books to add to his collection. Crowley had wandered off, his interest attracted by a strange collection of books singing _a capella_ in the display window. Aziraphale was perusing some cookbooks, curious about how the magical world made meals. He reached out to take one, finding a red-haired woman who bore some semblance to the Weasley twins had grabbed the same book.

“Oh,” he said. “Excuse me.” 

He let go. She smiled her thanks, suddenly looking over his shoulder, her face showing recognition. Aziraphale turned to see Crowley approaching.

“Angel, you should check out the singing books. I taught them the chorus to ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’. Let the shopkeepers try to figure that one out,” he said rather proudly. “Umm . . . I think I’d better wait outside,” he added as he saw a store employee heading his direction and disappeared rather quickly.

“Was that Mr. Crowley?” the woman asked.

“Yes, how do you know that?” replied Aziraphale, confused.

“Are you his partner?” she asked, having noticed Crowley addressed him as “angel”.

The status of their relationship was nobody else’s business nor did they care much what others thought of them so Aziraphale glossed over it by trying to introduce himself. “I’m . . .”

"I’ve wanted to meet Fred and George’s business partner. I never have approved of that shop and I’ve worried about Mr. Crowley being a bit shady – the black clothing, sunglasses and all. I’d love to have you two over for dinner. I’m Molly Weasley, the twins’ mother.”

“Really? I don’t think that’s a good . . .”

“It’s settled then. I’ll have the twins talk to him this week and set up a date. It’ll be wonderful getting to know you both. It was nice to meet you. I look forward to seeing you again.”

She moved on, leaving Aziraphale standing there too stunned to reply. 

“Dinner?” he finally said to the thin air. “Oh, dear.”


	11. A Dinner to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley attend dinner at the Burrow. It isn't long before things start to devolve into chaos.

“I can’t believe you just let her steamroll over you like that,” said Crowley as Aziraphale got ready for their dinner with the Weasley family in the bookshop’s flat.

“Well,” called Aziraphale from the bathroom where he was using the mirror to try to make his curly hair look more presentable. Finally he gave up, using a miracle instead. “It’s not often I’m approached by people’s mothers who also happen to suspicious about your motives. It would have been lovely had you stuck around to give me a hand.”

“Those singing books were just calling my name.” 

“You never can resist a chance to do mischief.” Aziraphale exited to the cluttered Victorian-style living room where Crowley waited on the couch.

Aziraphale had changed into a more formal pair of trousers, a less scuffed-up waistcoat and made sure his Victorian frock coat looked tiptop. Crowley barely looked like he had combed his hair. The angel rolled his eyes.

“That’s what you’re wearing?”

“What? It’s just dinner.”

“With your business partners’ family. Do try to make a good impression.” He handed Crowley a white button-down shirt he had miracled into existence. “Wear something nice.”

“Fine.” Crowley shrugged out of his coat before sauntering off to the bedroom to change.

He emerged in a red button-down shirt, giving an exasperated gesture to the angel. Aziraphale was holding a black tie. Approaching Crowley, he tried to hand it to him.

“No. This will be fine with my coat.” He attempted to walk away only to find Aziraphale had thrown the tie over his head, probably with a miracle, and was tying it. “Angel, I can tie my own tie.” He tried to bat Aziraphale’s hands away only to get his lightly slapped in return. 

“You’re not acting like it. There.” Aziraphale finished tying it and gave him a kiss. “Now get your coat and let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“Devon. A village called Ottery St. Catchpole.”

Crowley groaned dramatically. “Bloody dull county.”

“When was the last time you were there?”

“The fourteenth century.”

“That explains it,” replied Aziraphale as they disappeared.

They appeared in a field outside a wooden fence surrounding a several-story house that looked like it had been added on to over time and was now being held up by magic. The original portion of it was a stone building while the rest was made of wood. Several chimneys topped it.

“Quaint,” commented Aziraphale.

“We couldn’t have met in a nice restaurant in London?”

“Hush. You need to be on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I’m serious!” chided Aziraphale as they approached the door. He politely knocked. “Behave or you can dine at the Ritz by yourself for the next month.”

“Hey, Crowley, Aziraphale,” greeted Fred as he opened the door. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a green tie and a yellow and green patterned shirt. 

George was standing behind him wearing the same suit but with a purple tie and blue and purple patterned shirt. “Come in. Welcome to the Burrow.”

“Check your sanity at the door,” added Fred.

“Hello Fred, George,” said Aziraphale. 

“Hi, guys,” greeted Crowley. “So, what’s with your mother?”

“If you only knew,” said Fred as the four of them walked to cluttered but homey living room where Molly Weasley bustled in wearing her best dress robes.

“Welcome, you two! I’m Molly Weasley. I remember you’re Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley, but I don’t recall first names . . .”

“Anthony.” Crowley stuck out his hand and she shook it.

“A.Z.,” said Aziraphale.

“Unusual initials,” Molly commented as she shook his hand in turn. “What do they stand for?”

“I’d rather not say,” replied Aziraphale with his best smile.

“Oh. All right.” Molly paused a moment. “It smells like something is burning. Please excuse me. Make yourselves at home.”

She hurried off to the kitchen. Crowley watched her go.

“So is this going to be an interrogation or a dinner?” he asked as he sat down in his usual slouch in the nearest chair. 

“Yes,” replied Fred. 

“She thinks you’re a bit shady, you know,” added George.

“I _am _a bit shady.”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale. “But can this be one time you actually act like a gentleman? For the twins’ sakes, at least?”

“Hey, I’m wearing a tie.”

The twins suddenly stood up, looking towards the stairs. 

“Don’t think we can’t hear you up there!” called Fred.

Three faces appeared at the top of the stairs – Ron and Harry waved sheepishly. Grinning beside them was a red haired girl who could have only been another Weasley. Hermione was still at home although she planned on spending time at the Burrow later this summer. 

“You might as well come down,” said George. “Mum’s busy in the kitchen.”

Three ventured as far down as the middle of the staircase. The boys sat on a lower step while Ginny settled on one a couple of stairs above them. Crowley grinned at them. Aziraphale’s greeting was a rather cool nod. The boys were still on his list after that stunt in the bookshop. 

“They’ve been told to stay out of the way until dinner,” explained George.

“That doesn’t mean they listen. We’ve taught them well.” Fred looked rather proud about that. “Let me introduce Ginny, our sister.”

“Hi,” said Ginny. “I keep hearing about you two.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ginny,” said Aziraphale. 

“Hi,” said Crowley.

“So is it true?” asked Harry. “You lot aren’t human?”

“No. We’re guardian spirits,” answered Crowley. “What of it?”

“Awesome,” said Ron, grinning at Harry.

“Your mother does not know that,” Aziraphale added. “So please keep you own peace about it.”

“You need wands. No wizard goes anywhere without one,” said Ginny. “Can you conjure those up or something?”

Crowley pulled two out of thin air, tossing the light coloured one to Aziraphale while keeping the wand whose wood was nearly black for himself. They both tucked them into their inner coat pockets if evidence was needed.

“There.”

“Brilliant,” said Ron. “I wish I didn’t need a wand to do magic.”

“Sorry, kid, but that’s the way it works for humans,” said Crowley. 

Aziraphale remembered just then his promise to Dumbledore to tie Harry’s soul to Earth so when the Horcrux in his scar was destroyed, his spirit would go to limbo, not travel on to the afterlife. “Harry, can we possibly talk in private? I spoke to Professor Dumbledore and there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Uh, sure,” said Harry, the look of confusion evident on his face. Aziraphale had made it very clear he didn’t appreciate Harry or Ron’s attitudes.

The two of them headed out into the garden.

“So does this mean the two of you are getting involved?” asked Fred quietly.

All eyes in the living room and on the stairs were on Crowley as he answered. He nodded.

“As much as we can. I’m not going to talk about it anymore in front of underage wizards.”

“That’s not fair,” complained Ron. “We’re just as involved. You know what Harry’s done. I’ve helped him and so has Hermione.”

“Yeah,” added Ginny. “I got possessed by an old diary of You-Know-Who’s. We have every right to know what’s going on.”

“Your mother already thinks I’m shady. Let’s not add to that before I get to know her ok?” replied Crowley. “Maybe I’ll tell you later if I feel like it. Or not.”

He knew they’d have to be educated. He and Aziraphale just had to figure out about what.

“It sounds like Mum’s done in the kitchen. You lot better go,” said George.

Fred tossed them some Extendable Ears. “Here you go. So you’re not left out.”

Just then the front door clattered open and Mr. Weasley entered. “Sorry I’m late, Molly,” he called. “You know how it is at the office these days. Hello, I’m Arthur Weasley. You must be Mr. Crowley. I just met Mr. Fell in the garden.”

Crowley stood up, offering his hand. “Anthony Crowley, nice to meet you.”

“Oh yes . . . the boys’ business partner. You live in the Muggle world.” Arthur seemed rather excited about that. “So what’s that like . . . being a wizard, but surrounded by Muggles? It must be fascinating.”

“It takes some getting used to,” admitted Crowley. 

“So what is up with the pictures in the Muggle world?” Arthur asked. “They don’t even move.”

Crowley blinked. “Uhh . . . they just don’t? But they’re coming up with ways to make it happen.”

He pulled out his mobile, something that attracted the attention of every person in the room. The demon raised an eyebrow, unused to such attention over a very commonplace item. With a few quick swipes he pulled up a relatively harmless gif of a kitten playing. Showing it to Arthur and the rest, who had gathered around, he tapped it to start it moving. 

“But it just does the same thing over and over? That’s rather unimaginative,” said Arthur.

“That’s as good as it gets for them right now.”

“Intriguing!” Mr. Weasley replied. “What is that device you can show moving photos on?”

Molly had reentered. “I see you kids need to improve your listening skills. I thought I said to stay upstairs until dinner. Which is now ready. Please, Anthony, follow me. A.Z. and Harry are already in the kitchen.”

The demon and the Weasley family filed into to seat themselves at the long table, Crowley sliding into a seat to Aziraphale’s left. The twins sat across from them. Molly and Arthur sat at the ends of the table and everyone else filled the empty seats. Dishes were passed around with everyone filling their plate

“Anthony, I think you forgot to remove your sunglasses,” commented Molly pointedly. 

“I think I’d rather keep them on, thank you,” replied the demon.

“It’s rather rude to wear them inside.”

“It’s rather rude to assume I have no valid reason to continue wearing them inside,” Crowley was close to snapping at her, but restrained himself. “And I will _not_ answer questions about them.”

Just like that the atmosphere became tense. The Weasley children and Harry bent over their plates not daring to look at Molly. Arthur cleared his throat nervously. Molly finally gave an apologetic smile to Crowley.

“I still don’t find it proper, but you’re a guest in this house.”

George, who was taking a sip from his glass choked, about spraying its contents on Aziraphale. Fred gave his back a few solid thumps.

“So, Anthony. How did you manage to meet Fred and George?” asked Molly.

“I was curious about their shop, so I paid it a visit,” replied Crowley easily. “We started talking and found out we’re fellow pranksters.”

“Pardon me for asking, but aren’t you a little old for that?”

“You have no idea.”

“Mum, can you not put our business partner through all your questions? We’re adults now,” groused Fred.

“Yes, we can make our own decisions. This is rather embarrassing,” said George as he stabbed the food on his plate with a little more vigor than necessary.

“You run a joke shop. It’s hardly what I consider an appropriate career,” said their mother. “I don’t see why you two just couldn’t have just gotten Ministry jobs like your father.”

“The mayhem they would have caused would have been fun to see,” muttered Ginny. Luckily her mother didn’t hear her.

“Molly,” said Arthur in a bid to get the conversation under control again. “Anthony here, at least, lives in the Muggle world. Do you, A.Z.?”

“Yes. I run a bookshop in London.”

“How do you get by, not using magic?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, you either do it clandestinely or you just learn Muggle ways. They’ve figured out how to make the world work for them,” replied Aziraphale. Being a wine snob, he had just performed a miracle on the glass he was served, changing it into a nice Beaujolais.

“A bookshop’s a perfectly respectable kind of shop to run. Why couldn’t you boys have done that?” asked Molly. 

And the clash between mother and sons started again as if Aziraphale and Crowley were not at the table. Aziraphale continued his conversation about Muggles with Arthur. Crowley sat there fielding a few questions from the kids and generally becoming more annoyed over the situation. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. Standing up, he snapped his fingers. The scene froze. Aziraphale looked at him in surprise.

“I’ve had enough,” Crowley said irritably. “We need to get this situation under control.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ . . . Crowley sliding into a seat to Aziraphale’s left._
> 
> They have to sit in the right order. 😁
> 
> Yes, I did cut Hermione from this because it's already full of people and she's the most logical. Harry would be there because his home life sucks while Hermione has parents who love her. And she had already was in "Herbology" the Neville chapter. 
> 
> The conclusion will be next week. I won't be a sadist and make you guys wait a month or so for that.


	12. Tea and Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the Weaselys is not going well. Crowley's temper is rising and Aziraphale decides that maybe they need to have this discussion later when everyone is calmer. But will it help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions of who the Ineffable Husbands should meet next are always welcome.

Aziraphale stood in the garden of the Burrow with Harry looking down at the small potato-like being who was staring at him with large eyes. He nudged it a bit with his brogue as it was rather in the way, making it hard to get off the pathway.

“Gnomes,” explained Harry. “Just kick them out of your way.”

“Umm, yes . . . I think I’d rather not,” replied Aziraphale, stepping over the creature to head further into the garden for privacy’s sake. 

He prepared the miracle he needed to bind Harry’s soul Voldemort so if the boy was killed while Voldemort was still alive, his soul would go straight to limbo where he’d have the choice to return. It was the one way to keep Harry from becoming a sacrifice when the Horcrux in his scar was destroyed.

“I don’t mean to sound rude here,” said Harry. “But you seem to dislike me. And Ron.”

“Your attitudes at times leave much to be desired, I admit,” replied Aziraphale, miracle at the ready. “But this is not about your behaviour, but your safety. I’ve been in contact with Professor Dumbledore.”

“So you _are_ helping the Order?” asked Harry. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale flailed for a moment. He wanted to get Harry alone to do the miracle but didn’t quite know what to say to keep up the ruse. Best to be vague. “We’ll assist you however we can because I know your part is going to be big. I do not have the ability to see the future, but I wanted to say you’re not alone in this fight. For now I’d appreciate it if you kept it a secret.”

It seemed lame, but he hoped it worked as he sent the miracle to do its job. 

“Thanks. But I want Ron and Hermione to be told, too,” Harry replied. “All three of us are in this together.”

Aziraphale agreed to do that in good time, rather glad when Arthur came home and introduced himself. He had all but run out of material. Having nothing more to really talk about, they went back inside via the kitchen to find dinner was almost ready. Harry was pressed into service by Molly, who was getting dishes on the table; Aziraphale offered but was politely refused.

Unfortunately, dinner was served along with a sizable helping of chaos that went on until Crowley’s rising temper forced him to halt a meal that had become unbearable after a mere fifteen minutes. Currently the demon was standing over a table of frozen figures, having just stopped time. Aziraphale was looking up at him in surprise.

“We need to get this situation under control.”

“I have no idea how,” replied Aziraphale. “But something tells me this is normal.”

“All I wanted to do was have a little fun helping them come up with products. Now it’s turned all domestic.”

“It’s the whole dinner idea,” said Aziraphale. “Here we are in Devon where a nice intimate cream tea would have been very lovely but instead we have this.”

Crowley just stared at him.

“Sorry.” Aziraphale paused. “Wait a moment . . . why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why not have a discussion over tea with just Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the twins?”

“Because dinner has already given me indigestion.”

“Crowley, I’m being serious.”

“So am I!” replied Crowley. “I’m not interested in discussing my business with Fred and George with their overprotective mother. They’re adults.”

“Tell her you’re protecting Fred and George,” said Aziraphale.

“Too many people already know we’re not human. It’s getting out of hand.”

“You don’t have to tell them you’re not human. Just that you’re helping out with Professor Dumbledore’s blessing.”

Crowley tapped the table with his fingers, thinking. “That just might work.”

“Go ahead and let me do the talking,” said Aziraphale, nodding to the demon. With a snap Crowley restarted time. A cacophony of sound returned to the kitchen as the reanimated family started arguing again.

“That. Is. Enough.” said Crowley, pouring a small amount of demonic persuasion into those words; something that had to be used sparingly and for small things or it would run afoul of free will. 

He didn’t raise his voice but everyone stopped talking to look at him.

“Yes. We’re not going to get any civilized conversation this way. I’d like to suggest we come back tomorrow for tea with just you two, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and the twins,” interjected Aziraphale hastily before Crowley could say something rude. “I can bring the fixings for a nice cream tea if you provide the tea itself.”

Molly blinked. “Oh. Sure.” Crowley was positive Aziraphale was doing a little angelic influence of his own. “Does four o’clock work?”

“That’d be wonderful.”

Nearly twenty-four hours later, they were coming back up the walk, Aziraphale carrying a hamper full of scones and condiments. Crowley eyed him as they knocked. 

“Just had to have your cream tea, didn’t you?”

Molly answered the door. “Hello again, A.Z., Anthony. Come in and I hope things go more smoothly today.”

There was a pot of tea and service for six set up on the table in the kitchen where Fred and George sat grudgingly with Arthur. He rose to greet the two. 

“Welcome back, gentlemen. Have a seat.”

Aziraphale took out the scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam, arranging scones on the empty serving platter awaiting them. Remembering to take out his fake wand, he used a miracle to warm them before sitting in the chair to Crowley’s right.

Something made a protesting squawk as he leaned back, startling the angel into standing up. Looking back as Crowley snickered, he picked up a pile of grey feathers that looked mournfully back at him through a pair of orange eyes. Fred leapt up to take the bird from him.

“Bloody owl. He’s supposed to be on his perch.”

He attempted to get Errol, the family owl, to balance on the perch in the corner before finally giving up and leaving him lying like a moulting feather duster on the writing desk next to it.

“You’ll have to forgive that owl. He’s getting old,” said Molly. “The scones look delicious, thank you for bringing them.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Aziraphale. He had resettled in his chair and accepted a cup of tea she offered. “That’s much better. A little more intimate and easier to control, I think. Now, what is it that you want to know?”

“Why our mum feels the need to get involved,” muttered George as Fred nodded.

“A joke shop is not a serious career and you’re hanging out with people I don’t know from Adam in dangerous times!” huffed Molly.

“Oh, I think you’d know us from Adam,” muttered Crowley under his breath.

“Hush,” said Aziraphale just as softly.

“You’re only eighteen. You don’t know what you want!”

“We’ve wanted this joke shop since . . .”

“I think we need to calm down a little. Let’s keep this at civilized levels,” said Aziraphale rather loudly so he could be heard.

The kitchen door clattered open as Harry came in. He smiled at them. “Sorry, I forgot my broom.”

Molly smiled indulgently at him. “You left it by the back door, dear.”

He took his time getting it, trying to clandestinely listen in to as much conversation as he could.

She turned to the angel and demon. “Who are you two? You just come out of nowhere, a couple of wizards living in Muggle London running a bookshop. And he looks a little young to be your boyfriend, Mr. Fell.”

Crowley looked to be in his late twenties while Aziraphale appeared to be solidly in his forties.

“Molly, I think that’s a little much,” said Arthur before either of them could respond. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but the stress of these times just gets us all worked up.” He put an arm around his wife. “And Harry? You’ve had enough time to get your broom. Run along now.”

Harry exited.

Crowley was spreading jam on his scone followed by clotted cream. The conversation stopped as everyone looked at him. 

“What?” he asked, making a shrugging gesture while holding scone and knife.

“It’s cream than jam here, my dear,” murmured Aziraphale.

“Condiment placement is not what we came to discuss,” replied Crowley. “Do you want to know what I’m doing? I’m protecting your sons, Mrs. Weasley. They’re vulnerable now, outside the protections offered by living here or being at Hogwarts. We’re allies of the Order. Have a problem with that, fine. Take it up with Dumbledore.”

“Yes,” added Aziraphale. “If you want to double-check with Professor Dumbledore, he can vouch for us.”

“Uhh . . . yeah . . .” said George. “You can’t object to us having a bodyguard or two, can you? Mum? Dad?”

They were interrupted by Ron sticking his head in. “Anyone seen Pig?”

Molly looked ready to explode. “He’s supposed to be kept in your room, now please, we’re having an important conversation here.” She turned back to the table. “I’ll be talking to Dumbledore. I don’t mean to offend your new acquaintances but these are dangerous times. We can’t just outright trust people we don’t know.”

“I sent him out on delivery and now I’m expecting a letter from Seamus,” Ron muttered as he closed the door.

“That’s rich. You invited them to the house,” commented Fred, ignoring Ron.

“Yes, and if we feel that such a move was dangerous, we can protect it with a Fidelious Charm,” said Arthur.

“Pig?” whispered Aziraphale to Crowley.

“Ron’s owl. Tiny, hyper thing. It showed up at the shop once when I was there. The twins make fun of it sometimes.” Crowley rejoined the conversation. “You do what you have to, but our motives are not malevolent. Your sons are adults. How they choose to live their lives is their business.”

“They are still family,” said Molly heatedly. “Who are you to tell me how to treat my children?”

Just then Ginny entered. “I left my . . . sorry to interrupt . . .”

She went over to the counter to pick up a deck of Exploding Snap cards, taking her time to pocket it as Crowley and Molly argued.

“Ginny,” said her father. “Please.” He indicated the door with a nod.

“Sorry,” she said again as she left.

Crowley smirked at Fred and George, knowing they orchestrated the interruptions to keep the conversation off-kilter. He raised his teacup to him. They grinned right back.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” said Aziraphale, who was afraid this whole situation could get out of control again. “We have a job which we will be doing, regardless of what’s thought of it. It was lovely to meet you both, Arthur . . . Molly.”

“Likewise,” said Crowley.

Arthur stood up. “I’ll walk you two out.”

The three of them headed out to the edge of the property where one could Apparate and Disapparate. That protection, at least, the Weasleys had put on the Burrow. Aziraphale pulled out his fake wand, prompting Crowley to do the same.

“I apologize,” Arthur said. “Molly’s been through so much. She lost family in the last Wizarding War. We spent the first years of our marriage fighting and living in fear of You-Know-Who. If you have Dumbledore’s blessing, I’ll trust you two to protect the boys. She’ll come around in time.”

Aziraphale nodded with a smile as the twins approached. “We understand.”

Crowley stuck out a hand to Fred and George. “Sorry it didn’t go better. See you two next week?”

They both shook his hand in turn.

“Of course you will.”

“Definitely. You have the best ideas.”

“Keep them safe,” whispered Arthur as he shook hands with angel and demon.

Then they waved their wands to cover their ability to use their powers effortlessly. The Devon countryside became the bookshop’s interior where Crowley collapsed on the couch.

“Never again, angel. Next time you’ll just have to grow a spine and say no, ok?”

“I know. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Dinner tomorrow at that new Italian café that opened up in Central London.”

“I assume I’ll be paying the bill? Fair’s fair. That _was_ a bit of a nightmare.” He sat down next to Crowley, giving him a long kiss before conjuring up a nice Moscato d’Asti for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errol is not mentioned after _Goblet of Fire_, but I felt like inserting him in a minor way. The Weasleys could have retired him instead of him being dead yet.
> 
> If you don’t know, the Devon method of doing cream tea is to put the clotted cream on the scone then top that with the jam. Jam then cream is the Cornish way. Both counties feel their way is the correct way and there are arguments over it, as well as which of the two counties it originated in. Londoners tend to follow the Cornish method but Aziraphale’s kind of a foodie, so he’d know the correct way to do it when in Devon. Crowley most likely doesn't give a damn one way or another.
> 
> I’m following the miniseries canon where if anyone makes any comment about them potentially being a couple, those two don’t address it. Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship is their business, right? 😉


	13. The Dog on the Doorstep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale comes back from a quick trip to the coffee shop for a latte and pastries to find a large black dog on his doorstep. A call to Crowley has the demon rushing over thinking it's an escaped hellhound, but what they really have is a mystery on their hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve pulled the HP universe forward to be in line with the GO show universe, so this is happening just slightly in the future because I also wanted the failed apocalypse over to give Crowley and Aziraphale the freedom to do whatever needed to help out the Wizarding world.
> 
> Suggestions welcome! Several (more like many) of these chapters came out of suggestions made by readers! :)

“Hello, you three,” greeted Aziraphale as Harry, Hermione and Ron entered the bookshop. “Please, head on to the back and you boys don’t touch anything. I’ll be right with you.”

The bookshop actually had customers this afternoon, much to Aziraphale’s annoyance.

“He acts like we’re going to destroy the place,” muttered Ron as he slouched off after Hermione to sit at the table where Aziraphale had laid out some baked goods and tea for them.

“He’s not that bad,” said Harry, reaching for a plate on which to put biscuits. “You just have to get to know him.”

“If you wouldn’t insult his books, it would be start,” supplied Hermione helpfully. 

“I’d like to know what he is, other than some grumpy bookshop-owning spirit,” grumbled Ron through a mouthful of cake. “Luna knows, but she just smiles at me when I ask, and you’re just as useless, Hermione.”

Hermione shrugged her reply. She kept her own counsel on what she knew about Aziraphale and Crowley.

“How does Luna know?” asked Harry.

“She’s Luna. How should I know?” snapped an irritated Ron.

“Aziraphale says she’s a little more open-minded and observant than most people,” Hermione replied. “Now let’s just talk about something else.”

“Ok. What do you think Crowley’s hiding behind those sunglasses?” Ron asked.

He was the unfortunate victim of bad timing; Crowley swaggered in just as he uttered the question. 

“My eyes. What do_ you _hide behind sunglasses?” sarcastically replied the demon. He looked over all of them seated there. “Why are there three of you today?”

“We were all invited,” said Hermione. “Aziraphale said he has something to tell Harry and we’d probably like to hear it, too, as his friends.”

Floating back to them was the sound of a lock snicking into place as Aziraphale closed the shop for the day followed by the sounds of chairs being set down with a _thunk_ on a rug-covered wooden floor. Footsteps approached as the angel’s blond head popped around the doorway’s corner. 

“We’re ready . . . oh, hello, Crowley. Are you going to join us?”

“I guess. I hope you moved enough chairs over. The couch is mine.”

There was an extra chair when they arrived, all circled in the open area between the couch and Aziraphale’s desk, ready for occupants. A larger table than usual sat in the center of the circle, prepared for the treats Aziraphale transferred from the backroom table with a miracle. He helped himself to a piece of cake before settling down in his desk chair. The kids brought their plates of goodies from the back room before Crowley wandered out munching a biscuit and carrying a glass of wine.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “In front of the children?” he whispered.

“Like they haven’t seen it before. Want some?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just have tea.” Aziraphale paused a moment to get himself a cup from the teapot on the table. “All right. Everyone settled? Good. . . It was August of 2017, I believe. . .”

_It wasn’t often you saw animals out and about alone in Soho, especially large dogs which is why the canine attracted Aziraphale’s attention as he came back from grabbing a mocha latte and some pastries at the local coffee shop. There, sitting under his window watching the pedestrians walk by, was a large black dog with a shaggy coat. It regarded him carefully as he unlocked the bookshop, its brown eyes appearing more intelligent than usually seen in the average dog._

_“Oh. Hello.” Aziraphale nodded at it then slipped inside._

_Setting down his latte and bag of sweet baked goods, he made for his phone which he quickly dialed and waited for the other party to answer._

_“What?”_

_“Hello, Crowley, it’s me, Aziraphale and . . .”_

_“I know it’s you. I do have caller ID.”_

_“Yes . . . sorry,” Aziraphale, unsure exactly what caller ID was, pressed on. “It’s just that there’s a large black dog sitting outside my door watching me and . . .”_

_“Stay right where you are. Do not go outside for any reason, do you understand? Those idiots Downstairs who handle the hellhounds probably let one get loose again. I’ll be right over. I’ll come in the back way.”_

_He hung up. Aziraphale put the receiver back in the cradle still curious about the dog outside. Peering out the window it was under he watched the dog calmly sit there unlike any hellhound he had ever heard of over his years of associating with Crowley. It looked up, wagging its tail at him, the expression on its face warm and friendly. No, his face. Aziraphale suddenly knew the dog was male and that he needed some help. Going to door, he yanked it open to let him in._

_Politely, like being invited into a bookstore was an everyday occurrence, the dog trotted in and sat on the rug as if waiting for something. Aziraphale looked him over, scruffy and thin as he was. A hellhound would be in tip-top condition, wouldn’t he? It would be hard to worry souls if you were seriously neglected. _

_“Hello. I must say I don’t really know that much about dogs. I’ve never actually owned one and really don’t spend much time around animals. Not that I don’t like animals it’s just . . .” Aziraphale awkwardly felt the need to explain himself while realizing that he was talking to a dog. “I don’t keep much around, just some sweets to nibble when I’m peckish, but I guess under the circumstances, beggars can’t be choosers, am I right?”_

_He headed back to the kitchenette where he had a tin full of shortbread and half a cake. He really didn’t feel either was appropriate for a dog, but Gabriel would question him miracling up a ham or something for a stray. Good deeds didn’t extend to animals in the Archangel’s views. Deciding cake was better than nothing, he put a small slice on a plate; he’d get Crowley to wish up something more nutritious when he arrived._

_“Here you go,” he said returning to the well-mannered dog who remained sitting on the rug under the oculus looking around at the books. “I know it’s a small piece and not appropriate for a dog but it’ll put a bit of food in you and once my friend gets here, we can get you something healthier.”_

_The dog stood up, wagged his tail in what appeared to be a grateful manner and dug into the cake. Aziraphale stood back to watch, thinking there was something a little too polite about this dog. He wasn’t interested in sniffing around or trying to chew up the angel’s precious book collection or anything he associated with dogs. Puzzled and curious, he folded his arms across his chest, mulling that over while the dog ate._

_“Aziraphale! What in Hell’s name are you doing?” _

_He was yanked completely off-balance by the demon trying to pull him away from the dog, falling over as he tried to unfold his arms to catch himself. All he ended up doing was crashing backwards into Crowley while his hands flailed as he got his arms free to balance himself. The dog was gawking at them as Crowley helped Aziraphale right himself, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Aziraphale stared back, but the dog just went back to eating._

_“Crowley!” snapped Aziraphale crossly. He eyed the dog, and then switched languages, speaking in Latin instead. “It’s not a hellhound.” A beat later he added. “But he does not act like a normal dog. No sniffing around, nor trying to destroy things. He didn’t even try to jump on me. And I swear he just laughed at us.”_

_“Ok, it was kind of funny that I almost pulled you over, but what does a dog know about humour?” Crowley replied in that same tongue._

_“Exactly! Look at him! Have you ever seen a dog eat that politely?”_

_Crowley never was good with animals thus didn’t know exactly how rudely a dog ate. He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never made it a habit to watch dogs eat.”_

_He circled the dog slowly, the canine observing the demon in return now that he was finished with his cake. Crowley remained impassive as he examined him, finding him just as odd as Aziraphale did based on his own limited knowledge of dogs. He crouched before him, looking the dog straight in the eye. The dog barked and thumped his tail on the floor. Crowley placed some chicken he wished up on the empty plate in front of him before turning to Aziraphale._

_“You’re right. That dog’s not normal. He smells almost human.” He continued the conversation in Latin._

_“Smells almost human? How are you doing that?” _

_“I can turn on the snake senses without actually becoming one. We need to find out what’s up with this dog. He doesn’t smell infernal, though. I assume you’d know if he was celestial?”_

_“He’s not.”_

_They both regarded the shaggy black dog before them eating the plateful of chicken. Aziraphale headed to the backroom for a bowl of water and some privacy. Crowley followed on cue, standing beside the sink as Aziraphale filled the bowl. _

_“So, how do we handle this? Just act like nothing’s going on and let him leave?” whispered Crowley still using Latin._

_“It’s better than possibly stirring up trouble in here. I would rather he came then went without causing harm to my books,” Aziraphale replied firmly. “Besides, he seems friendly. I don’t believe we’re dealing with a malevolent creature here.” He exited, approaching the dog cheerfully. “I thought you might like some water. You do look thirsty.”_

_Setting the bowl down, he nodded at the dog who made a quiet rumbly woof before lapping some of it up. The angel watched with interest. He drank like a dog, but not a drop ended up on the rug._

_“Well, he’s not evil,” Aziraphale turned when Crowley strolled out. “I blessed that water.”_

_“Why would you do that? I don’t even want to know what mess that would have been left had things gone differently.”_

_Done with the chicken and having drunk down most of the water, the dog trotted to the door, looking expectantly back at Aziraphale as if he wished to leave. Shrugging at Crowley, the angel walked to the door to open it for the canine. The dog leaned his shaggy head against Aziraphale’s thigh for half of a moment before stepping out on to pavement and disappearing in the crowd._

_“I guess we’ll never have our answers to that,” he mentioned to Crowley as the demon approached._

_“It happens. Even our lives need a little mystery.”_

_Aziraphale closed the door with a nod and went to prepare them both some tea. _

Back in the present, the room remained quiet for several minutes after Aziraphale stopped speaking. Hermione and Ron exchanged shocked glances while Harry looked at his plate apparently collecting his thoughts. Finally he looked up at Aziraphale with a smile on his face.

“I think you met my godfather,” The teen’s face showed a pensive look despite the obviously happy smile. 

“Yes, I put two and two together after hearing a few of your stories about Sirius and his ability to turn into a dog.”

“He would have just escaped from Azkaban and probably needed some food and water. I think he might have been in London looking for me. I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron then.” Harry choked up, Hermione reaching over to grasp his hand while Ron looked on, concerned.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have saved his life,” said Aziraphale softly. “I wish we would have encountered this world just a bit earlier.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s not your fault. Thanks for what you did. You might’ve kept him from starving or something.”

Aziraphale nodded in reply, the room lapsing into silence for another long moment. Finally he spoke. “Well, then. Shall we get on with the lesson for today? Put your chairs back, we’re going to be in the back of the shop looking at fairy tales. You will be surprised what truths you can find in them. Go ahead, get out your wands. I’ll shield you from detection.”

As chairs floated by along with laughter, Aziraphale gave Crowley a solemn look. “He’s lost his parents and his godfather. I just have the feeling Harry’s going to have to face Voldemort alone.”

“Yeah, angel, I do, too.” Crowley reached out to reassuringly squeeze Aziraphale’s hand briefly.

That sobering thought on his mind, Aziraphale headed out into the shelves determined to prepare all three children how he could. Hopefully what little he and Crowley could do would give them a fighting chance.


	14. Slither In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Nagini appears at the bookshop, trapping Aziraphale inside, Crowley learns there's more to her than appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do these crossover stories because I love the Harry Potter universe. I like the books and the characters even though I’ve learned not to like J.K. Rowling over the years because of many controversial things she’s said, the latest I know about before I stopped paying attention to her completely being some very TERF-y tweets she made when she should have kept her mouth shut. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop loving the Harry Potter series. For better or worse, I’m separating the work from the author. But I won't buy any further books or see any further films.
> 
> Now, I’ve had a lot of requests for a Nagini and Crowley story which poses its own set of problems. Namely that Nagini in _Fantastic Beasts 2_ is a cursed Asian woman and that opens up a big old problem about racial insensitivity. We have here in a film franchise that doesn’t showcase much diversity in it a woman of colour who loses her humanity then ends up the pet/slave of a white man. 
> 
> Yes, there are people of colour in Harry Potter, but none of them are main characters and the one woman of colour in Fantastic Beasts who is of importance ultimately becomes evil. Casting a black woman as Hermione in _Cursed Child_ is a step in the right direction, but that does not mean I’m comfortable with an Asian Nagini. My Nagini is not Asian. It’s a rare occasion I mention race or skin colour with my characters (I don't believe mentioning eye and hair colour indicates race -- lighter colours are not confined solely to white people any more than darker ones are confined to people of colour). I’d rather readers decided what they are for themselves, but this time I’m speaking out against assigning a marginalized race to this character. I’m not doing that to whitewash the character. I’m doing that because there were many Asian voices calling out about the racism and stereotypes present in the casting decision and I’m going to listen to them when they talk about their experiences.
> 
> And as always, suggestions are welcome.

Aziraphale didn’t feel like opening up the bookshop today. Instead he settled himself at his desk to do a crossword while waiting for Crowley to return from picking up breakfast. He had a few books full of them now thanks to Crowley. Aziraphale had found them on his desk one day although he was very careful to not thank him for them or acknowledge that he knew where they came from. Even demons on their own side didn’t like to be reminded of their nice gestures.

He flipped through one to find a puzzle he hadn’t done yet and got busy reading clues to fill in. He was about halfway done with it when he heard the unmistakable jingle of the bell announcing an arrival. Putting his pen down, he rose from his chair.

“Crowley? Is that you?”

An angry hiss was his reply, but this snake was not Crowley. Slithering into the bookshop was what resembled a very large specimen of brown python with an open mouth full of angry teeth. Aziraphale stumbled back past the till miracling up an invisible barrier between him and it. The snake hit its snout upon it, rearing back momentarily before crawling back and forth between the till and some bookshelves. Finally it decided to head towards the back room.

“Oh no, not in there!”

Another barrier went up, keeping the snake out of that area as Aziraphale looked on nervously. He was watching it nose around trying to find a way through indicating it was an intelligent snake. It paused to look at him briefly before going back to searching for ways out. Too intelligent for a snake. This was worrisome.

He quickly called Crowley.

“_What_?”

“Are you nearby?”

“_Just pulling up to the kerb_.”

“Get in here and please hurry!” Aziraphale couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “There’s a giant snake!”

Crowley was crashing through the doors in a heartbeat and containing the snake so Aziraphale could free himself. “Really, angel? You put the barriers around yourself rather than it?”

“I panicked! Now what do we do?”

“I’ll deal with it. I’m opening the barriers. Stay back.”

He shimmered a moment turning from human shape to snake form and entered the area he had trapped the intruder in. It lunged at him with a snap which he rebuffed with a slap from his tail. The snake recoiled in surprise.

“Show some respect. Aren’t you Voldemort’s snake?”

She refused to reply.

“Why are you here? And I suggest you answer or I’ll squeeze the life out of you.” He was easily twice her size and was currently twining himself around her length.

“My master sensed strong magic in this place – dark and light.”

“You don’t belong here. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you.”

Nagini hissed at him as he examined her with demonic powers, his tongue flicking out as he concentrated. Two surprises came out of his investigation. The first was she was originally human, the second was she was carrying a sliver of Voldemort’s soul. So much for his threat. Killing her would amount to direct involvement, thus was forbidden. He inwardly seethed at that. From what he understood, this snake was nothing but Hastur-and-Ligur-level trouble.

“Human? How are . . . were you human?” he demanded.

She remained silent, twisting around him, making attempts to figure him out. All snakes innately knew he was the First and not to be messed with. Why wasn’t she answering him? He poked her mind delicately so she wouldn’t notice, jerking back in surprise.

With a quick demonic miracle he put Nagini to sleep and entered her mind, tumbling into a strange world that he didn’t quite understand at first. His disorientation was shaken off as he saw across the empty grey room from him a young woman wearing a snake skin patterned dress with a ruffled hem. Examining her he noted how sad she looked.

“Please, sit,” she said as two chairs appeared in the empty echo of the space they occupied.

He did as she requested, eyeing her suspiciously. “How does a young woman end up in the body of snake?”

“I’m a Maladictus. I was born human but cursed to permanently become a snake. Unfortunately that meant my human personality has been trapped here in this mind for years when I changed for the last time and the snake personality emerged.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Sorry to hear that. How does this happen?”

“It’s a blood curse. I would much rather be free of this prison, but this is my lot in life now.” She smiled sadly at him. 

“What is your name? Nagini is Sanskrit for serpent, so that cannot be it. You have to have a human one.”

“I don’t remember. It’s been too long and I’m slowly losing my humanity.” She stopped for a moment, cocking her head at him. “You are not human. Don’t think I can’t sense that. You are?”

“The Serpent of Eden. I’m cursed, too, just in different ways.” He took off the sunglasses. There was no need for them here with her. She understood. “So, what’s Voldemort up to and why is he in my friend’s bookshop?”

“Really? There was an Eden? That was not just some myth? He’s looking for powerful beings to recruit for the upcoming war because there will be one. He sensed you and the other spirit.” She got up to pace the room, trailing her finger over the back of the chair as she passed by it. “His plan was to have me . . . _her_ more like it . . . kill him to keep Dumbledore from recruiting him, then convince you to come to his side.”

She touched a wall, creating a window that looked out upon a sunny day over a field of grass. Staring out it for a moment, she turned back to him, looking partially angry in her sadness. Crowley wondered what was fueling the anger. 

“That’s not going to happen. We are way too powerful for him to even be messing with.”

“You don’t seem evil for the snake who tempted Eve.” She continued to look out the window, the scene outside switching to a waterfall in the forest. “Why wouldn’t you want to join with another evil entity? Isn’t that your purpose?”

“Well . . . I really never was on board with Hell . . . sometimes you Fall for asking questions. Heaven doesn’t like skeptics.” He tried to be nonchalant about it, shifting in his chair so he was sitting in a relaxed manner that screamed just how much he didn’t care. “Long story short I don’t work for them anymore. The other one in question and I guard humanity now.”

“That’s noble. Humanity needs guardians.” She turned towards him abruptly changing the topic of conversation. “I think I used to fight against Dark wizards, but I don’t remember. Soon, I will forget all of my humanity. Will I still have a soul or be able to pass into the afterlife?” 

“I don’t know for sure. But I do know your soul is not marked for Hell.”

“I’m afraid of becoming nothing but that snake.”

He nodded. “Understandable.”

He stood up to pace the room himself, his boots echoing through the emptiness with every step. Attempting to make his own window, he found he could and concentrated on Aziraphale. The angel showed up in it looking anxiously over the two still snakes before him. 

Crowley used a miracle to establish a mental link with the angel waiting nervously in the bookshop. _Aziraphale?_

_Yes? What is going on? Are you all right?_

_I’m fine. I’m going to be coming out with someone as soon as I can convince her to leave with me. _

_What? Where are you and again, what is going on?_

_In the snake’s head and there’s a young lady who’d like to be free of her prison here._

With a manic grin he turned towards Nagini, a hand outstretched to her. She looked at him, shocked, then regarded his hand, not understanding what he was asking of her. She took an involuntary step back.

“Come with me.”

“But you’re the Serpent.”

“Was. Like I said, I’m on my own side now and I can get you out of here.”

“You can? Are you sure?”

He wiggled his fingers, gesturing to her in a beckoning motion. “C’mon. Wherever your spirit goes, it has to be way better than wasting away here.”

She looked at him with a small smile, tentatively stretching out an arm towards him like she wasn’t sure she should even trust him or not. But it was either believe in him or end up reduced to nothing as the snake personality’s grip tightened on the mind that used to be hers until it crushed her spirit out of existence. Nagini decided to take her chances. She grasped his hand.

He led her to the wall that he had dissolved enough of for them to exit the empty room. Beyond his created doorway lay nothing but darkness. Upon looking down to see no ground before the opening itself, she hesitated. Crowley fixed her with a determined stare.

“We’re leaving here; you’re not backing out on me. When I say it, jump, ok?”

Her grip on him tightened painfully in fright and she responded with just a nod, but he didn’t let go. He refused to leave her trapped in her own mind forced to watch the murderous snake who had taken over her body commit atrocious acts in Voldemort’s name.

_I’m such a sorry excuse for a demon_.

“Jump!”

They tumbled into the bookshop, Nagini in spirit form while Crowley returned to his serpentine body. Panicked, she back away from both snakes, putting as much distance between them as the barriers would allow. Aziraphale stepped forward to dissolve enough of one to let her out. Crowley slithered after, putting the barrier back in place just to be safe.

Nagini’s fearful eyes looked from Aziraphale to Crowley, who had reared up so he was on eye level, and back.

“Aziraphale, Nagini. Nagini, Aziraphale.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Aziraphale. He would have extended his hand to shake hers, but it was difficult to shake the transparent incorporeal hand of a woman who was nothing more than a spirit. 

“Nice to meet you . . . I feel a tug upward,” she commented with confusion. 

“Let it guide you. It’ll take you to where you need to go and the angels up there will take it from there and get you all settled. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’d accompany you, but I’m afraid I’ve been exiled to Earth for opposing the Apocalypse.” The angel gave her a reassuring smile. “Go on. Everything will be ok.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully to both of them as her spirit glowed with a bright bluish-white light before disappearing entirely.

“Be back,” Crowley said before Aziraphale could start asking him questions.

Back into the barrier he slithered to awaken the problem snake he had to do something about before the next individual to walk through the door was Voldemort himself. He woke her up, the snake not aware of having been unconscious as she hissed at him with contempt. 

“You know what I am. All snakes can sense it. You know what that means, don’t you? That this place is protected and off-limits. If anyone comes to bother the being who lives here, I will not spare them. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Now go tell him we’re not beings any mortal should try to mess with if they want to keep living. We are powers beyond even his understanding and we will be left alone.”

A lazy wave of his tail vanished her to some field outside of London. How she would get back to Voldemort’s headquarters he didn’t care. Crowley knew she’d get there to deliver the message. Hopefully the bookshop would be safe, not that Aziraphale wasn’t perfectly capable of protecting himself. Crowley would rather he didn’t have to.

He got rid of the barriers and returned to his favourite shape. Aziraphale stood nearby enough Crowley collapsed into his arms in need of some comfort after his conversation with Nagini’s human personality. Aziraphale just held him a minute before saying anything.

“What was a young woman doing in the mind of a snake?”

“She was the snake. Born human and cursed to eventually become a snake permanently over time. Maladictus,” replied Crowley. “Ask Hermione to get us more information on it. I’m curious but Nagini didn’t say much about it.”

“Oh. She was the one you pulled out of there?”

“Yes. Give me a moment. Right now I’d just like to go sit down to catch my breath, then I’ll explain everything.”

Crowley sank onto the couch while Aziraphale prepared some cocoa for both of them. Smiling with appreciation, Crowley took it as Aziraphale seated himself. Pausing for a few sips, he then proceeded to fill Aziraphale in on the whole story, promising him the bookshop would stay safe.


	15. Dangerous Tomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco Malfoy is ordered to steal some books. Unfortunately for him, they're located in exactly the wrong bookshop.

It was rather quiet today at the bookshop. So quiet that Crowley had left to go find excitement elsewhere as he did every once in a while. Aziraphale made it a point to never ask him exactly what he did. Best not to know in case he was out causing mischief.

He got on with the business of shelving the new inventory then when that was finished, decided to take a lunch break. The lunch break turned into baking cakes in the flat since business was slow in the first place, and in the second, he was not feeling particularly motivated to sell books. He was sure Crowley wouldn’t mind sampling what he had created when the demon finally returned. 

The boom of large ancient tomes hitting the floor caught him off-guard. For a moment he blew it off as nothing. It appeared to come from upstairs which was restricted; humans who were curious about the first floor of the bookshop suddenly forgot about its existence once they decided to climb the stairs, instead returning to browsing among the selection on the ground floor. The shelves upstairs were reserved for all the dangerous books he collected, like ones containing magic spells or were written by angels or demons. The last thing any human would want to encounter was a book that would be more at home in Hell’s library.

But his feeling that something was not quite right persisted, convincing Aziraphale that he needed to check it out. Leaving his batter for now, he headed out into the shelves themselves checking between them for anything untoward. 

“Hello? Who’s there?” He wondered if some of the more lively volumes he had collected over the years had once again gotten excited over something and jumped off their shelves. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but he didn’t have a heart to buy some barrister cases to keep them in. The poor things couldn’t move in properly in those. He came across the pile of books scattered on the floor as if they had just fallen, not jumped, to the floor. His alarm rose. This particular shelf was full of inactive but highly dangerous spell books. Someone had gotten past his protections. “I know you’re up here! This is not the place for you to be!”

Collecting the books, he set them carefully on the table at the end of the shelf before continuing his search. He could see the figure now, hidden behind the large plants by the picture window to the east. Crowley’s collection had outgrown his flat and the overflow was kept here where they quickly became confused between Aziraphale’s praise and the demon’s threats.

“I suggest you come out. This is not the place for you,” Aziraphale called. “Some of the books are particularly aggressive and my friend will have your hide if you damage so much as a leaf on his plants.” 

Hands up, a thin teenage boy with hair nearly the shade of Aziraphale’s stepped out from behind a ficus. “Don’t hurt me!”

“That’s the last thing on my mind. But we do need to have a talk. Come inside.” Aziraphale indicated the flat, giving the boy a no nonsense look that told him he’d best do as he was instructed.

Shutting the door behind him, Aziraphale gestured for him to have a seat on the old fashioned couch in the living room, taking a seat in a slightly threadbare chair across from him. He fixed the boy with a stare; the boy reddened and looked at the throw rug on the hardwood floor.

“There are things in this bookshop that should never be touched by humans which is why they’re kept upstairs under protections. How did you get through those?”

“Side-along Apparition. They dropped me off and told me to get the job done.”

“And what job was that, my dear boy?”

Miserably, the boy reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment that he handed to Aziraphale. The angel took it, putting on his reading glasses before examining it. His eyebrows raised above the antique frames. 

“These are dangerous titles. What is your name and what is going on?”

The boy was silent. 

“Draco Malfoy,” came a voice from the doorway. Aziraphale heard it slam shut behind Crowley. “Only child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. The newest Death Eater at the tender age of sixteen.”

“Is this true?” asked Aziraphale.

“Yes.” Draco saw no reason to lie, especially since the man in black who had just entered didn’t look like anyone he’d want to cross. “I have to prove myself. The Dark Lord is angry with my father.”

“So he’s taking it out on you?”

“More or less,” said Crowley when Draco stayed quiet. “What will happen if you fail?”

“This was a loyalty test. I don’t even think I was actually supposed to bring some books back, just see if I could get by your defenses.”

“They _know_ this place is protected and they sent a _child_.” Aziraphale could hear Crowley’s barely contained anger in his whisper.

“Who helped you, then?”

The boy was looking at them, but upon that question, his face became unreadable again and he turned to stare out the window to his right. “My mother found out you can get around the protections by directly Apparating upstairs.”

Aziraphale took care of that little issue right then and there. “And where is she now?” 

“Back home waiting for me. She wasn’t supposed to get involved.”

“Well, I _am_ going to have to call her.”

“They don’t have phones, Aziraphale,” Crowley muttered. 

But Aziraphale’s look told Crowley that the lack of a telephone would hardly be a problem. Pulling out some paper, he penned a note on it. Afterwards, an owl appeared on his arm, wobbling a bit as it was conjured. It seemed surprised but soon settled down on his wrist while he handed it the note he had just written.

“I’m going to Apparate you to Malfoy Manor. Give this to Narcissa.” The owl vanished.

Draco slouched back, raking a hand through his hair. The tenseness radiating off the boy was palatable to both demon and angel. Crowley finally entered more fully, seating himself on the other empty chair instead of lurking in the doorway. He kept an eye on Draco who had gone back to staring sullenly at the floor. The awkward silence that permeated the flat didn’t last long, to everyone’s relief.

A middle-aged blonde woman appeared with a slight pop, concern etched on her haughty face. Aziraphale had opened the new protections briefly to allow her in and out this once. She recoiled slightly upon seeing Crowley, but quickly rushed to Draco’s side, pulling him protectively into her arms. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “What right do you have to hold my son here?”

“What right does your son have to break into my bookshop?” Aziraphale shot back, a little harsher than he intended.

Narcissa’s eyes opened wide in surprise. The inner circle had been told two immortal spirits resided here, but she didn’t expect ones so human-looking. Something told her the man-shaped being in the outdated clothing who had sent for her was benign and she could trust him. Unfortunately she didn’t get the same feeling from the other one, but somehow she knew that as long as she didn’t try to harm the benign spirit, the more unsettling one would not be a threat.

“Draco, I need to talk alone with him. Can you wait outside?”

“He’s not waiting out there alone with my books. What are you playing at?” Aziraphale retorted. “Crowley, wait out there with him.”

“Do I look like a babysitter?”

Aziraphale fixed him with a stare. Now was not the time for Crowley to start acting up. This woman obviously wanted to talk and being that she was part of Voldemort’s inner circle, Aziraphale was anxious to hear what she had to say.

“No, but I do recall you were a nanny once.”

The sneer Crowley fixed him with was one of his best, but he didn’t argue. He beckoned to Draco. “C’mon kid. We’ll head downstairs and I wouldn’t recommend you try anything. I’m not as nice as he is.”

He punctuated that statement with a humourless smile that showed off eye teeth too long and sharp to be in a human mouth. Draco visibly swallowed down a touch of fear. Still, he did as he was asked and headed out of the flat with Crowley.

The door slammed behind them and Aziraphale turned towards Narcissa. “I just caught your son Draco trying to steal a rather dangerous assortment of spell books from my collection. I guess it would be easier to get straight to the point . . . What is Voldemort up to?”

Narcissa winced to hear that name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I believe you do. Your son is sixteen and already a Death Eater.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes. Putting her head down, she hid them from him by virtue of her long hair falling before her face. “It’s true.” she whispered. “And it’s my worst nightmare. My husband is disgraced and the Dark Lord demanded my son fill his place. Can you help him?”

“How? I’m just a bookseller.”

“Please? We both know that’s not true. Look at the books you keep. You’re a powerful magical being, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale sighed. “You might say that but I cannot get involved, my dear. It’s just not possible. At least not directly.” 

He pulled out a clean handkerchief and offered it to the distraught Narcissa. She took it with a small smile of thanks, dabbing the tears from the corner of her eyes. Hanging on to it, she twisted it around a finger as she spoke to him.

“Can you keep Draco safe? I fear the worst and he’s the only child I have.”

“My colleague tells me you already have an Unbreakable Vow with Severus Snape.”

“Yes, but that’s for a different task,” she sobbed, not even questioning how these spirits knew.

“I know,” Aziraphale replied softly. “We know exactly what’s going on and Snape will fulfill it if needs be. It would be better if he did than risk Draco’s soul.” He closed his own eyes against the emotions. He had offered to heal the curse Dumbledore had foolishly brought upon himself, but the Headmaster had refused his help, saying what will be will be. “All right. I can promise Draco will stay safe as long as he doesn’t voluntarily do anything that would benefit Voldemort.”

He saw her shift uncomfortably at the mention of that name.

“And if he does?”

“Then the promise is forfeit. I see the good in him and I believe he can be redeemed, but he gets one chance. If he shows himself willing to serve the Dark Lord, then he does not deserve my protection.”

Narcissa nodded. “Thank you.” 

Aziraphale hadn’t seen such a relieved look on a woman’s face in a few centuries. What was Voldemort doing to punish this family? The thought concerned him. Aziraphale rose with her following suit. Together they walked downstairs to find Draco sitting sullenly on the couch twirling his wand in boredom while Crowley sat at Aziraphale’s desk playing on his mobile. He looked up at their entrance.

“About time. We’re both bored. Or at least he is. I have my entertainment.”

Draco joined his mother and they both left the bookshop while Crowley and Aziraphale watched. Aziraphale wondered if he was doing the right thing, but what was done was done. He had put a miracle of protection on Draco before they Aparated out.

“I promised her he’d be safe as long as he never did anything voluntarily for Voldemort.”

Crowley stuffed his mobile back in his pocket. “You think he’s redeemable?”

“He’s still young, so yes . . . I do. And if he does voluntarily decide to follow the Death Eaters, my promise no longer stands. He’ll be on his own.”

“I don’t trust him. The Malfoys are an old Pureblood family who believe in the Pureblood ways. Dark wizards all the way back.”

“Well, young Draco has the chance to break the chain, then.” Aziraphale turned towards Crowley, who had approached him and was leaning up against him now, head on the angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale put an arm around Crowley’s waist in return. “Will you keep an eye on him? You’re still spying on their meetings, aren’t you?”

“Yes and yes. I feel he’ll need it.”

“You might be right there. Anyway, I did bake a cake and was in the middle of putting a second one together. My first one’s cool and I’d like to try a slice. How about you? Interested?”

“Sure, angel. Let me conjure up something drinkable.”

With a grin, he produced a nice sweet red that would pair well with dessert. The two headed upstairs to spend their afternoon enjoying cake, wine and each other’s company. If a little drunken snogging occurred, it was well-deserved after today’s encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions for this series are always welcome. I've used quite a few of them from readers in these stories.


	16. When In Egypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale take a holiday in Egypt where they run into Bill Weasley.

It was hot even in their hotel suite, the mugginess of the outdoor somehow overwhelming the air conditioning and making the rooms sticky. Aziraphale’s frock coat hung abandoned on the back of a chair and he was seriously contemplating leaving his waistcoat behind as well, even though he’d feel rather undressed without it. In the end, he settled for rolling up his sleeves and changing out his velvet waistcoat for one of lighter cotton. 

“Why did we decide to come to Egypt?” he moaned as he waited for Crowley to exit the bathroom where he was styling his hair.

“Because I haven’t been here since the eighteen hundreds or so except to nip in and out doing temptations. Now that I’m retired, I’d like to actually have a holiday or two somewhere outside of Europe,” Crowley called back. He emerged, putting the sides of his hair back into a bun. He had decided one day to miracle it long again. “You didn’t have to come.”

“No. You’re not putting it back like that. It didn’t look good ten years ago and it doesn’t now.”

“It’s hot out.”

“You’re a demon for heaven’s sake. I’ve never seen you sweat in the six thousand years we’ve known each other.” Aziraphale eyed him, noticing that he was wearing a black t-shirt and trousers of a lighter material than that heavy denim he favoured back home.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t feel heat. I’m just more tolerant of it.” One had to be back in the day when Hell literally was fire and brimstone, and meant you returned to Earth smelling of sulfur. “Let’s go. I want to check out my temple. See if it’s still there.” 

He snapped his fingers and suddenly they were standing in front of a partially hidden ruin concealed by half a sand dune and covered in vines long dead. Aziraphale stared at it a moment before recovering.

Eyeing the demon, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean ‘your temple’, Crowley?”

“Just that . . . ‘my temple’, angel.” Crowley had walked on ahead and was now examining the broken stone door. “I spent a few years here as a snake deity back in the day. Had quite a following, even some of the nobility worshipped me. But one day I headed out for a swim to find the river had turned to blood. You know what that can do to property values? So I moved on.”

“It was lucky you left when you did. Gabriel was in charge of coordinating the Plagues. You would have earned yourself quite the smiting if he had discovered you. I was fortunate enough to be assigned to help out with the Red Sea miracle rather than the Plagues, which couldn’t have made me happier. You’re aware of my opinion on insects.” Aziraphale shuddered slightly in disgust at the thought of plagues of gnats, flies and locusts.

“Someone’s here,” Crowley said abruptly. 

Aziraphale sucked in a breath, stepping behind him. Crowley frowned annoyingly over his shoulder.

“Will you knock it off? You’re an angel. It’s not like you can’t smite them if they’re a danger!”

“Sorry.”

Crowley waved a floating light into existence and stepped in around the partially smashed stone door, Aziraphale right behind him. Walking forward carefully, Crowley led the way through the front hall only to run across a red-haired young man with a ponytail and earring who was contemplating the hieroglyphics on the wall. 

“Hi,” said Crowley. “I didn’t expect to find anyone in here.”

The young man, who looked like he’d fit right in the Weasley family, gave them both an irritated look. “If you’re from a rival bank, Gringott’s was here first. Any treasure found rightfully belongs to them.”

“No. No rival bank,” said Crowley. “We’re just curious about ruins.”

Aziraphale nodded at the young man with a smile before turning his attention back to the wall. He took a close look at the hieroglyphics and deduced it was something about worshipping the snake and giving him worldly possessions of the alcoholic variety. The young man was writing down notes on a small piece of parchment. 

“I can’t quite make out some of these symbols,” he said as he brought his own magically created light closer to them. 

“I believe it says something about tithing the best wines to the snake deity.” Aziraphale shot Crowley an annoyed look.

Crowley didn’t bother to look ashamed. “Anyway, who are you? And why would Gringott’s waste its time on an empty temple?”

“Bill Weasley,” the man replied. “I’d shake your hand, but . . .” he shrugged sheepishly, looking down at arms juggling some strange devices, a quill and several strips of parchment. 

“Anthony Crowley.”

“A.Z. Fell.”

Both decided to pretend his last name meant nothing to them. Things were complicated enough without divulging more information to an older brother they had heard about in passing.

“Nice to meet you both, although I should ask how do you know about this place and why would you say ruins set with so many curses wouldn’t contain treasure?”

“Someone likes his little pranks,” muttered Aziraphale.

Crowley ignored him. “It’s a temple, not a tomb full of a pharaoh’s worldly possessions.”

“If you don’t know advanced Curse Breaking, you really shouldn’t be exploring this site,” Bill added as he stuffed some of his possessions back into a bag except one wheeled device and his wand.

Setting down a mysterious contraption, he tapped it with his wand. It turned on its wheel emitting a stream of blue smoke. Bill gestured with his wand, speaking out a few words. Then he stepped back from the wall before it glowed blue for a moment. A door opened.

“There. It’s safe to pass through. If you didn’t do the right spell, it would blast you right back outside. No guarantees you’d get there without injury.”

“Do tell,” said Crowley. To Aziraphale he whispered, “No blasting, but your pockets would shrink whenever you tried to put something in them. Go through that other door and every July for two weeks you’d have an unexplained rash right in that spot on your back you can’t reach.”

“Ok . . .” Bill was point his wand forward towards where Crowley knew his former throne room and main area to hold court with those who worshipped him was located. “Follow me. I know of one more curse before we get to the main area of the temple.”

“Ok. You’re the expert.” Crowley swaggered after him, thoroughly enjoying himself. 

Aziraphale sighed and trudged on along behind. “You know, we could come back later.”

“But I so want to see Bill here get through the next curse.”

They trekked on through a smaller room where worshippers and those with tithes waited until Crowley was ready to hold court. More hieroglyphics covered the four walls, snakes obviously the main subject discussed. In one corner was a giant statue of a rearing snake carved in stone.

Bill pointed at it. “See that?”

“Yeah.” The former occupant of the temple stopped beside him.

“That’s the snake form of the deity worshipped here. Legends about a statue of a black snake with yellow diamonds for eyes have been passed down for ages. It’s a wonder they haven’t been claimed yet.”

“You mean stolen?” asked Aziraphale pointedly. He did not like the idea of Curse Breakers.

“They can sit down here not doing any good, or they can be gathered to help out the community. That’s how I see it.” Bill was at the statue, examining it. 

Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out more strange spindly instruments to test it with, each one giving off a puff of smoke, a scream or turning different colours – results Bill noted on his parchment. He then sat down to do some calculations. 

“Sometimes this is a delicate job. This curse looks advanced, so I’ll have to be careful countering it. You two should stand back. I’m not going to be sure of the results of this one.”

“You know . . . those aren’t yours to take. And I’d think if they were easy to get, someone else would have by now. It’s been thousands of years,” argued Crowley.

“I’m very good at what I do,” replied Bill shortly. “And I knew the challenge I was taking on when I accepted this job. Also, I felt like going out on a bang before I transferred back to doing deskwork because I’d like to spend more time with my fiancée.”

“Well congratulations to the lucky witch. Let’s get you back to that desk job in one piece. I’m sure your fiancée prefers your socks aren’t always damp and you don’t constantly speak in rhymes.” Crowley gestured towards the exit. “C’mon.”

“I’m going to get those diamonds.”

“It doesn’t seem worth the risk.” Aziraphale hovered beside him, gesturing towards the front door.

“I knew it! You _are_ rival Curse Breakers!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” burst out Aziraphale. “We’re just here because _he_ wanted to see this place again!” 

“Do you have a pet?” asked Crowley, seemingly out of the blue.

“No.”

“Head through that door over there and your clothes will always be covered in pet hair even you don’t own one. Guaranteed. I don’t think even you fancy Curse Breakers can take care of that one.” He beamed at Aziraphale. “That was one of my better ones.”

“Really, my dear.”

Bill gave them both a skeptical look as he stood up. “And if I enter the priests’ chambers?”

“Do you want to attend your wedding with only one eyebrow?” asked Crowley.

“How do you know all this?” Bill had crossed his arms, fixing Crowley with a stare. 

“This temple is mine.”

“Nobody owns this.”

“Ok, it _used_ to be mine. I assume you have at least a partial map since you know the rooms around here. I’ll prove it.”

Bill pulled it out, careful to show him just the back of it. 

Crowley closed his eyes and accessed memories from long ago. “Ok, here we go. You broke in through the main door that faces south. There’s another entrance on the west for priests to come through. Next is the antechamber, then the throne room is straight off that. To the left are three priests’ chambers like you said. To the right is a room just big enough for a staircase and religious supplies. Beyond that a large room where the tithes were stored. Upstairs is where all acolytes slept. Off the back of the throne room was a private room for me. There’s a door in that room that that exits onto the riverbank. And if you take those diamonds, you’ll spend the rest of your life needing a to-do list to get from one end of the house to the other because you’ll never remember why you entered a room. Now I suggest you get off my property.”

Aziraphale smile apologetically before escorting Bill out the entrance, Crowley following behind to make sure he didn’t try to reenter. Once outside, Bill turned towards them.

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at, but they’re not going to be happy I came back empty-handed.”

“All right! Keep your shirt on! A redhead like you will burn in this sun.” Crowley made a couple of showy gestures and in his hands appeared two items – one was an ancient coin in perfect condition and the other was a small golden snake statue with ruby eyes. He thrust them at Bill. “The coin should fetch quite a price on the market. The statue’ll protect whoever is in possession of it from death. I know dark times are ahead for wizards in England. You might want to hang on to it.”

“Thank you.” Bill shook his hand, then Aziraphale’s.

“Don’t mention it. Now Apparate back to wherever you came from. You have no reason to be here,” said Crowley. He waved a hand at the temple and the whole ruin disappeared. Aziraphale gasped as he watched, turning towards Crowley with a look of bewilderment. “You know why,” Crowley said to him.

“Good luck and congratulations on your upcoming wedding,” added Aziraphale before turning to Crowley. “Shall we have lunch?”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

They disappeared with a pop, leaving Bill alone in the heat. That was odd; they used no wands but Apparition was possible without a wand only by the most powerful wizards and witches. Nor did the usual Apparition motions occur. They simply disappeared. 

He returned to his hotel and traveled back to England the next day, stopping by London to visit the twins at their flat above the joke shop.

“I had the weirdest experience Curse Breaking,” he said to them. “Two guys came into the temple while I was working and one seemed to know all about the place including every curse on it.”

The twins looked at each other with smirks.

“They’re in Egypt, aren’t they?” Fred asked.

“Yes,” replied George. “Strange curses? Like urgently having to use the bathroom right when you just got comfortable in bed?”

“How do you know?” asked Bill, perplexed.

“Bet you ten Galleons that’s Crowley’s temple. You can’t tell me he wasn’t running around Ancient Egypt pulling pranks,” said Fred to George. George, knowing better, declined the bet. Fred turned back to his older brother. “Get comfortable, Bill. Have we got the story for you . . .”

Over in a flat in Mayfair in an office decorated with a lavish desk and throne-like chair, a large stone statue of a snake with yellow diamond eyes appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Yes, there is a little nod to Whiteley Foster’s Prince of Omen in there.


	17. Watchful Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad-Eye Moody finds Aziraphale's bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I am spamming people so much this week! I've gotten involved in a lot of writing activities.

Aziraphale knew the man was a wizard the moment he walked into the bookshop. What he wasn’t prepared for was his appearance, which he literally heard before he saw the man, as Aziraphale was working in the shelves this afternoon cataloguing some inventory. What travelled towards his ears were strange footsteps, one sounding like a normal foot in a normal shoe, the other echoing on the hardwood floor like the clunk of a piece of heavy wood being dropped on it. Aziraphale winced to think what that was doing to his ancient floorboards. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” He might as well be unassuming.

Something invisible stung him right around his chest and he fell heavily, not able to move a muscle to break his fall. Crashing hard to the wooden floor, Aziraphale quickly miracled away the effects of the Full Body Bind Curse which completely caught him off guard. Crowley would be lecturing him if he knew Aziraphale was aware of a wizard in the bookshop, but didn’t bother to shield against their magic.

_Oh, dear. Now what? _He figured it wasn’t a Dark Wizard for they would have thrown something nastier at him. He pondered getting up to give the man a piece of his mind then thought better of it and allowed himself to lie there just as if the curse was still effective on him. Maybe he could gain some insight if he stayed unassuming.

“Just stay there, laddie. I’ll deal with you in a moment.”

_What in Heaven’s name is he after?_

The footsteps continued as the man explored a bookshelf, finally coming into view where Aziraphale could see him. He wasn’t prepared for the wooden leg with the carved clawed foot or the electric blue eye set in a face that looked like it had been carved by someone who believed they could create fine sculpture by using a chainsaw. Blindfolded. Instantly he knew it was Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, the famous ex-Auror who had been working with the Order for a while now. Dumbledore had never introduced Crowley and Aziraphale to him due to Moody’s inability to trust most people.

Moody was currently leafing through Aziraphale’s collection, taking books off the shelves to peruse before putting them back. He wasn’t always gentle and finally Aziraphale could no longer play pretend on the floor observing Moody’s motivations without grimacing at the damage possibly being done to his collection. He got to his feet carefully, rubbing a sore hip before healing away bruises sustained in the fall.

“I would appreciate it if you would be careful with those. Most of them are very rare.”

Moody turned towards him, the electric blue false eye riveted on Aziraphale as he spoke. Crowley had told him how exposed he had felt on the tarmac of Tadfield’s airbase when Adam Young basically gazed upon his soul and read his life story there, and now the angel knew exactly what he meant as Moody’s magical eye bored straight through him. What could the wizard see with it?

“That Body Bind Curse shouldn’t have worn off of you yet. Who are you and what is your interest in the wizarding world?” the gruff voice demanded. “Or rather _what _are you might be more appropriate.” His wand was now out and now practically in Aziraphale’s face as he closed the distance between the two of them. “Human wizards can’t just shake off a curse like that. And you don’t look human.”

“And . . . and what do you mean by that?” Aziraphale was carefully backing away from Moody, his hands raised to show he was harmless. He hoped he could talk him down without resorting to miracles. “Put that thing away. It’s very rude to be pointing it at me in my own bookshop.”

“You shine with some kind of yellowish-whitish light. That’s not human.”

“Bio-spatial feedback from being a spirit residing in a human-like corporation. Can’t be helped.” Aziraphale tried to shrug it off as if it was no big deal. “What else can that eye see?”

“It doesn’t matter what it can because I can see myself removing this gentleman from the shop.” 

Aziraphale turned his head to the right where Crowley stood leaning causally against the wall appearing for all the world like he wasn’t the threat Aziraphale knew he was. Keeping his wand on Aziraphale, Moody turned to face the newcomer, his eye boring into Crowley next.

“I can see your snake features, my friend. Snakes do not have a great reputation around here.”

Crowley snorted irritably. “You know, I didn’t ask for snake eyes, fangs or a bifurcated tongue. It’s all just part of what I got saddled with, unfortunately. I’m not going to sabotage anything your Order is doing. Now put that stick away because it’s more or less useless against our powers.”

Moody didn’t. He turned the wand on Crowley instead, which wasn’t advisable. A little demonic miracle insured it was in Crowley’s possession rather than Moody’s. The walking stick Moody was holding was gripped a little harder. Aziraphale noticed and tried to move as discreetly as possible closer to Crowley. He failed.

Moody reached out to grab him by the elbow. “Where are you going, laddie? I think we need to have a talk about why supernatural creatures have an interest in the Order.”

“I believe you need to unhand me!” retorted Aziraphale before he found himself suddenly spinning in place next to Moody then feeling like he was being stuffed through a tight rubber tube.

The constricting feeling made Aziraphale feel like his head would explode at any moment and he found he could not take a breath for the pressure on his chest. For once he was glad he did not need to. On top of the feeling of suffocation, his eyeballs hurt like someone was pressing on them with their fingers which was a sensation he never wanted to experience ever again. Finally, his sense of feeling phased in and out. Sometimes he could feel Moody’s hand on his arm and sometimes he could not, which only added to his feeling of alarm.

He landed in front of a row of terraced houses feeling like his stomach had turned inside out and was about to empty its contents on the cracked concrete beneath his feet. Ridding himself of that feeling, he turned angrily to the crazy ex-Auror who decided it would be a good idea to bring him here. 

“Kidnapping me? Really?”

“I would like to talk away from your snake friend there,” Moody said as way of explanation. 

“He can’t help what he is. That doesn’t make him untrustworthy. I believe you wanted to be on your own turf, to be honest. This is Twelve Grimmauld Place and it can only be entered if you have the permission of the Secret Keeper. You’re testing us, aren’t you? Someone let slip about the spirits helping out the Order.” Aziraphale straightened his bowtie as he fixed Moody with a cold stare, bastard side coming out now. “Only you left my friend behind and he is not going to be pleased about that. Well, I’m in on Dumbledore’s secret and so is he.”

With an audible huff, Aziraphale marched across the street, up the stairs and nearly jumped out of his human-like body as the extremely weathered front door was yanked open from the inside, revealing Crowley on the other side.

“It took you long enough.” Aziraphale stepped inside the hall, slamming the door shut behind him because he forgot the reason that wasn’t advisable.

“MUDBLOODS!” screamed the portrait of Mrs. Black as she heard it bang shut. “FILTH AND SCUM IN THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!”

“You let him kidnap you. It would have been easy enough to miracle your way back to the bookshop.” Crowley turned towards the annoying portrait that was still screaming loudly. “Shut up.” He hit it with a particularly powerful demonic miracle, shocking it into silence.

Aziraphale shut the velvet curtains covering it as Moody entered the hall, having the sensibility to close the door quietly behind him. His presence went unnoticed by the other two parties in the room.

“Have _you _ever Apparated before? It’s quite the experience and I must say one I never want to duplicate. I don’t know how humans do it repeatedly. I was too busy wondering what was going on to counter it with a miracle.”

“It’s a good thing Mad-Eye’s predictable. I really didn’t want to spend the afternoon searching for you, angel.”

A gruff voice cut through their argument. “Miracles? ‘Angel?’ Wings?” The electric blue eye shifted from Crowley to Aziraphale and back again. “Why are yours black?”

“Because I like them that way,” Crowley shot back, not prepared for this at all and furious at himself for calling Aziraphale “angel” in front of a human. 

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Another human who can see into other planes,” sighed Aziraphale. “Yes, miracles and wings. We do miracles and we have wings. Part and parcel of the whole guardian spirit role, you know.”

“What reason do you have to protect wizards?” demanded Mood, his gaze still on Aziraphale.

“We protect humanity and wizards are humans. Last year we managed to help avert the Apocalypse. The last thing we want is Voldemort to run around destroying England and the Continent before moving on to conquer other parts of the world.”

There was a pause as Moody mulled over this information. “_Accio _Sneakoscope.” 

He drew a shape with his walking stick and held out his other hand. His guests watched curiously while a small glass top-like object flew into his hand from another room. He held it flat in his palm as Crowley leaned forward to take a look at it. Immediately, it started to spin rapidly while lighting up red and giving off a shrill whistle. Aziraphale glared at him angrily.

“So, which one of you is lying to me?” asked Moody. “A Sneakoscope alerts when someone is doing something untrustworthy.” 

“Ok! I was thinking of stealing a doorknob,” Crowley confessed, throwing his arms up. “What of it?”

“Why?” Aziraphale had fallen into his most exasperated voice. They were trying to gain trust here and all Crowley could do was think up mischief.

“They’re all designed like a coiled serpent. I thought it would go with my décor. Nobody would miss one or two.”

“But you will not betray the Order?” Moody watched the object stop spinning and quiet as Crowley put the thought of nicking a doorknob or two out of his mind. 

“No,” he said.

The Sneakoscope remained quiet.

“I don’t trust that you can’t somehow fool Dark Detectors if you are what you say you are. I’m going to advise Dumbledore to not associate with you and to move headquarters somewhere else.”

“If you must.” Aziraphale turned on his heel to leave. Dumbledore knew what they were and would not take the advice. They could stay here to argue with Moody’s paranoia until the house crumbled to dust around them, or they could realize that some battles couldn’t be won. 

“We’re fine without mysterious spirits who show up out of nowhere with offers of help.”

“All right. Bye.” Crowley’s arm rose in an unnecessary showy motion and he disappeared, leaving Aziraphale to either speak with Moody alone or follow him home. 

Moody’s wand clattered to the floor. He stared at it with both eyes as if he had forgotten Crowley had it in the first place. Aziraphale was impressed he could Apparate without it, but he suspected Moody channeled magic through the walking stick he carried.

“We only want to help in what ways we’re allowed. Nothing more. This is our world, too, and we’ve vowed to protect it. We have before, knowing the cost to us could be high.”

“This is our war and we don’t need outsiders’ help.”

“Fine. I tried. You’re not going to change Professor Dumbledore’s mind on this, you know. Maybe someday you’ll understand,” he said sadly before he, too, disappeared from the dank hall to reappear in his familiar office in the bookshop.

Sighing, he turned to Crowley. “Want some cocoa?” Hot and sweet, it was a comfort drink for Aziraphale which he was sorely in need of after losing that battle.

“Angel, you can’t win them all over and we’ll just work through Dumbledore. It’s no trouble.” Walking over to him, Crowley drew him into a hug, rubbing his back with a soft reassuring touch. “Our plans aren’t scuttled because of one stubborn wizard, all right?”

“Right. But I do wish he would accept us.” Aziraphale nestled in against Crowley’s chest, feeling the love and encouragement he needed right now.

“I know. Go make us some cocoa. I’ll find an interesting thing to watch on Netflix or whatever.”

“A nice period piece or documentary wouldn’t come amiss.” Aziraphale headed to the backroom’s kitchenette. “And Crowley?”

“Yeah?”

“Put the doorknobs back.”


	18. Dark Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort has become aware of Crowley and desires the power of the demon for his cause. Refusal is not an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little more serious and involves temporary discorporation. I'm trying to come up with some more light or funny ones, so if you have suggestions, leave them in the comments. A lot of these are due to reader suggestions!

It was the first anniversary of the world not ending and their trials. Crowley was home alone as Aziraphale stated he needed some space to process residual feelings from his exile from Heaven. After dropping by with takeaway for lunch to check on him, he allowed Aziraphale the time he needed. The only problem was he found he had run out of things to do except catch up on his binge-watching of the streaming services he had hacked into.

Curling up on his couch with a lazily conjured blanket, he flopped down for a nap out of sheer boredom, falling asleep around early evening and awakening again after dark to voices outside his balcony, which was not a normal occurrence in the slightest given people would have to be floating there. He kept still, listening alertly to the conversation between what appeared to be two men.

“This is the dark spirit? Living among Muggles and using their inventions? How strong can this creature be if it is living like _this_?” The voice was cold and sounded disparaging.

_It? How nice. I might be genderless but that’s a bit much._

“They both live like that, I’ve observed, my lord. I believe it’s to blend in, like the wizarding community when it must interact with the Muggles,” said the second voice, which sounded more human than the first. “Still, he does use an unidentifiable kind of magic in his daily life. We have observed it and all we know about it is that it was a dark cast to it. It does not match the magic of any known magical being. The magic used by the other entity is similar, only with a light cast and he seems to use it less frequently.”

“And they are allied with each other as we suspected. Nagini told me that much. But it makes as much sense as a Dark wizard befriending one who doesn’t share our views. The snake form further suggests a darkness to this spirit. It is ancient, too. Nagini called it ’the oldest snake’. It could have magic unable to be countered by the Order. You will be my emissary, Rookwood. You have the temperament for this. Bellatrix would only become upset if thwarted.”

Crowley pondered this “Rookwood,” who had yet to be at a meeting Crowley had secretly crashed. Voldemort sent him on many a delicate mission. Sitting up, Crowley straightened his hair and waistcoat before going to get his jacket. It was time to take an innocent walk. Even demons needed fresh air and you never knew whom you might run into while on an evening stroll. Shrugging into his coat as he set his glasses on his face, he headed out the front door to the lift. 

He hadn’t walked half a block before Rookwood separated from the shadows he was lurking in to accost Crowley. He stepped in front of him with a false smile upon his face, nearly bowing as he spoke.

“Greetings, dark spirit. I am Augustus Rookwood, an emissary from the Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. He would like very much to meet with a powerful spirit such as yourself.”

“Dark spirit? Are you kidding me?” Crowley moved on by the simpering wizard. “I’m on my own side, thanks.”

“Oh, yes. Obviously.” Rookwood sprinted to catch up to him. “But you must grow weary of hiding among Muggles . . . the non-magical. Imagine being able to live like a god. To openly strike fear in the hearts of humans who oppose you. The Dark Lord is gathering an army to take over the wizarding world so wizards can take their rightful place at the top of the food chain. There will be no more hiding. Muggles will cower before the Dark Lord, his followers and the magical entities who wisely choose to follow him.”

“A god?” Crowley raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Of course. We have observed you and you appear to have the power of one. Why hide it? Why live like a Muggle?”

“I like humans and I’ve impersonated a god before. Believe me, it gets sooooo dull after a while.”

“Please, consider my offer. Our great leader would greatly like to meet with you.” Rookwood produced what appeared to be a business card to hand to Crowley. “Take this and touch it while thinking that you would like to join our forces. It will tell you where to go to discuss a pact with the Dark Lord.”

“I don’t think I’ll need it, thanks.” Crowley tossed it on the ground and continued on his way feeling he just painted a target on his own back. 

Rookwood faded back into the darkness and Crowley paused at the next street corner to pull out a lighter and a cigarette he had miracled up in his pocket. He hadn’t smoked in quite a few decades but thought it good cover while he listened in on the conversation between Rookwood and Voldemort, whom he sensed waiting in a nearby alley. Fumbling with the lighter like he couldn’t get his cigarette lit, he enhanced his hearing with a demonic miracle to eavesdrop on them.

“He refused, my lord.”

“I will deal with him. If he doesn’t join me, he needs to be permanently out of the way. I will not have such a powerful dark force running loose to potentially cause me trouble.” 

“And the other spirit, my lord?”

“We can take care of that one later. So far he’s shown no inclination to help out the Order. He seems to stick to his bookshop.”

They both Disapparated.

Vanishing the now-lit cigarette, Crowley turned to walk back to his flat with this sobering news. Now, what was he going to do? True, he was more powerful than any mortal magic-user on Earth, but he didn’t want to spend the future shielding himself and avoiding populated areas to keep innocents safe. Deciding to sleep on it, he would call Aziraphale in the morning to work out a plan. But before he went to bed, he doubled the wards on his flat.

“No,” said Aziraphale the next morning when Crowley appeared at the bookshop. “Absolutely not. It’s entirely too dangerous. Why would you take such a risk?”

He wasn’t even touching the cocoa and pastries Crowley had brought with him to sweeten the deal. If Aziraphale wasn’t touching food, then he truly was nervous about Crowley’s proposition. 

“The Killing Curse doesn’t harm the body any; it just separates the soul from it. I’ll stuff myself back in. We discorporate because the body becomes too damaged to hold a spirit. There'll be no damage.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Miracle me up a new body. It’s not like we’ll get punished for not following regulations anymore and I know you have books on how to create new corporations upstairs. What if I miracled up myself a new one and just stuck it into a pocket dimension in case I needed it? You just get it out and I’ll occupy it, no problem.”

“There could be a problem. We’ve never done this alone, Crowley.”

“Voldemort has two options for me . . . on his side or dead. It’s best to let him think I’m dead. It’ll mean I’ll have to stay here because I can’t die then be occupying my own flat.”

Aziraphale looked at him with worried eyes. “Yes, ok. You can stay in the flat upstairs. Some weeks you practically live there anyway.” He reached out to tenderly touch Crowley’s cheek. “I’m not on board with this. At all. Are you going to spend all your time hanging out here, then? A virtual prisoner in my bookshop?”

“I don’t have to be noticed by humans if I don’t want to be. We can still go out. I’ll just have to forego driving the Bentley for a while, that’s all.”

Aziraphale knew that would hurt. Crowley loved that car like it was his own child and driving was one of his biggest joys. He leaned over to give him the most caring hug he could, thinking while he comfortingly rubbed Crowley’s back.

“Can we pretend? We’ll have to be on the lookout for Dark Wizards and shield at all times while out. We know what to look for and they do have to verbalize that curse for it to be effective. All you have to do is fall over and stop breathing. Simple enough for us to do, really.”

Crowley pulled back so he could look Aziraphale in the eye. He bit his lip as he thought about it. 

“That will work, I think. Now eat. I spent good money on those pastries.”

Aziraphale broke down and took a sip of cocoa as they started planning. He had eaten his way through several pastries by the time they had the details worked out. Figuring that an attack was more likely to come after dark, they planned on spending more time out at night to attract the Death Eaters’ attention and to try to spend as much time as possible in relatively unpopulated areas, even though that was hard in a large city, such as they were.

It worked. They noticed they were being watched very carefully, something that not only made Crowley nervous but made him want to confront the Dark Wizards in some way. At the park, he flexed his fingers, wishing he could miracle them off to some unknown location so he could participate in public activity without eyes on him. Aziraphale noticed and tapped his hand as a reminder.

“Don’t do anything to let on you know, my dear.”

“Trying, angel.”

Weeks stretched by, turning Crowley into a nervous wreck. He forced himself outside only because he had to, otherwise, he would have taken to sitting on Aziraphale’s couch messing with his mobile or staring out the window as people walked by the bookshop. He rarely went back to his flat.

In fact, he had moved his plants and priceless artwork over already.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer,” Aziraphale said one evening when they were eating at the Ritz as he watched Crowley push food around his plate. “I can tell they’re champing at the bit to do something other than watch.”

“I hope so or I’m going to drop dead from all the anxiety.”

They left without bothering with dessert. Even Aziraphale couldn’t eat it while watching Crowley fidget with nervousness. Walking back to the Bentley, which was parked in a dark alley as an invitation to attack, they kept an eye out for anything suspicious. They were almost there when the bait worked. 

“_Avada kedavra!_”

Crowley went down like a stone, Aziraphale not prepared for it in the least. Startled, he dropped to his knees and pulled Crowley's body off the dirty pavement into his lap while he attempted to sob convincingly while saying things like, "Crowley? What happened? Please answer me!" and hoping they didn't sound too canned. After a minute he heard the pop of wizards Disapparating fill the alley. He kept up his mourning for about five minutes before using a couple of miracles to take them and the Bentley back to the bookshop.

“Ok, Crowley. We’re safe. You can stop pretending now.” 

He set Crowley down on the worn rug beneath them. Crowley did not respond. Panicked, Aziraphale shook him by the shoulders, only to have Crowley's head nod limply as he did. His breath hitched.

“Crowley?”

_“Over here, angel. I’m fine. We were standing too close to each other and your shield touched mine shorting out a portion of it. They got me through that hole. Dumb luck on their part.”_

Aziraphale looked over at the wavering, transparent form of Crowley staring down dispassionately at his own body before he glanced up to give Aziraphale a reassuring grin. Aziraphale gave him a less-than-reassured grin in return, twisting his hands together as he stood up.

“Oh, Lord . . . what if you can’t get back in it?”

_“Don’t panic. Let me give this a try.”_

Becoming a streak of light, Crowley’s spirit form flew towards his body, disappearing into it. Aziraphale jumped back as the body glowed momentarily and Crowley sat up, gasping for breath. A hand going to his heart, Aziraphale breathed out his own sigh of relief. He reached over to take Crowley in his arms, holding him as tightly as possible.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that again,” admonished Aziraphale, tears in his eyes. “You gave me quite a scare.”

“Well, this is it. It’s not safe for either of us to go out unless we make it so Dark Wizards can’t notice us.”

“It’s an easy enough miracle, really. A small sacrifice to make for helping the Order win, right?”

“Yeah, but I sure will celebrate when all this is over with.” Crowley stood up and stumbled to the couch as he worked on getting full control of his body back. 

Aziraphale joined him and they talked, keeping the conversation light. There would be plenty of time to discuss their next moves later. Right now, they were just thankful Crowley was able to easily slip back into his body. Everything else paled in comparison.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Voldemort sat thoughtfully in the hall he had taken to use as a throne room of sorts. The deed was done and the dark spirit had been eliminated. The light one had taken it rather badly, so Voldemort assumed he would be out of the picture mourning his friend’s death. If he wasn’t, then the same fate awaited him. Mission accomplished, he summoned his top Death Eaters and moved on to other business concerning the dark plans being formulated to bring down the wizarding world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used Augustus Rookwood because as far as I can tell researching Death Eaters (they've always just been this anonymous group of bad guys in my mind, except for a few exceptions), he's sane, pretty strong magically and one of the more trusted ones. He was a spy (an Unmentionable in the Ministry of Magic in the First Wizarding War), so could handle delicate situations a lot better than someone like Bellatrix, who is not the most stable of people, or Lucius Malfoy, who if he wasn't imprisoned in Azkaban, wasn't always the most competent or loyal of Voldemort's followers.


	19. Wolfsbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore asks for Aziraphale's help when Snape stops brewing Wolfsbane Potions for Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two. I'm hoping to make the next chapter lighter.

“Oh, dear. This does appear to be quite the issue,” admitted Aziraphale after Dumbledore had explained the latest problem the Order of the Phoenix was enduring. 

They sat in Dumbledore’s office having tea, Dumbledore having asked Aziraphale over to see if he could help out. Snape had stopped brewing Wolfsbane Potions for Remus Lupin and it, being a difficult potion to produce, meant Lupin in werewolf form was roaming around the countryside posing a danger not only to himself but others. He stayed out of London and other populated areas during full moons, but that only mitigated the problem instead of solving it. Werewolves did not retain their human minds when transformed, putting him in danger of discovery if he wandered on to a farm, for example, and those he came across in danger of a bite from him. Aziraphale could see how this could create some very serious problems.

“Is there anything you or Anthony could do to help?” Dumbledore asked. “I fear him getting killed by a Muggle or infecting someone, even if he is roaming rural areas.” 

Aziraphale spread his plump hands in a helpless gesture. “You know I can’t cure his lycanthropy. That would be direct interference. The best I could do is emulate the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion so he could curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep it off. Tonight’s the full moon, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale felt a sudden twinge of guilt at taking such a long holiday, but he had located a very rare book in New York and felt it better to fly over to buy it than trust shipping it across the Atlantic. Besides, Crowley very much needed out of London for a while before he cursed someone with a case of boils for cutting him off in traffic. You could take the demon out of Hell, but . . .

“Yes. I was hoping you would come up to Lupin’s cottage with me to speak to him. I’m sure he’ll agree to allow you to work your magic on him if it means he doesn’t have to become a mindless beast once a month.”

“Anything I can do to help the Order,” said Aziraphale. He gestured to Dumbledore’s blackened hand. “I do wish you would allow me to heal that. It is not beyond my abilities even if it is yours.”

Dumbledore held up his good hand with a smile. “No, Ezra. What will come will come. I’m an old man and a fool at that. Sometimes one has to pay the price for being foolish.”

A.Z., being cumbersome initials, had in time evolved into Ezra with the Order and Aziraphale found he hadn’t minded too much. It made him seem more human to them, which pleased Crowley, who felt too many knew they were not part of humanity. 

“You need to be more creative with a human name, anyway,” he had said. “A.Z. Fell might have been fine in 1850, but times have rather changed. Ezra Fell’s pretty close to your actual name.”

“Here’s hoping I can change your mind,” Aziraphale said to Dumbledore before he drank down the last of his tea. “Where is Remus’ cottage, anyway?”

“Not far from Hogwarts. It is close to Scotland. He is only there during the full moon. Otherwise, he’s in London or on missions.” Dumbledore looked, a welcoming smile on his face, to the entryway, which was to Aziraphale’s back. “Hello, Anthony. I’m glad to see you are able to join us.”

Aziraphale turned to see Crowley leaning indolently on the door frame, a suspicious look on his face. “Werewolves, Albus?”

“I had forgotten our resident angel had a guardian demon.” Dumbledore gave a good-natured chuckle. 

Crowley remained unamused, his lip pulling back to reveal a sharp-toothed sneer. “Yes. It is the kind of thing I suspect one should try to keep in mind.”

He pushed off the door frame to stalk over to Aziraphale, standing behind him in a protective manner. Aziraphale looked up at him over his shoulder to greet him with a smile before returning to the serious conversation at hand. He had a duty to help the Order in any way possible which conflicted with Crowley’s desire to make sure he stayed safe. To be honest, Aziraphale failed to see how a werewolf could cause him any harm as he could protect against any attacks. Besides, it was afternoon. The full moon came out tonight a bit after sunset. He would be speaking with Remus before anything untoward occurred and if Remus agreed to his interventions, nothing could happen.

“Crowley, there is no cause to overreact. I simply need to make Remus safe during his transformations.”

“Only if we go now. It’s two hours until sunset and the moon’s rising early tonight. Apparate us on over, Albus. Time’s a-wasting.”

A few stomach-churning minutes later and they were landing in a field outside a ramshackle cottage that barely looked livable. Aziraphale stumbled slightly, glad that angels did not vomit. Crowley groaned beside him, holding his head. He gave the cottage a disparaging look before speaking.

“What’s with that tight feeling? I feel like someone was trying to bandage me like a mummy. I prefer our way.”

Dumbledore asked them to wait outside for a moment, which they obliged, but when he didn’t return after five minutes, Crowley’s impatience got the best of him. He suggested they check out what was going on.

They entered to find Dumbledore speaking into a roaring fire recently built in the fireplace to a man’s head. Aziraphale couldn’t help but stared at it, fascinated. Crowley shrugged and found himself a secluded corner to clean the grass pollen off his sunglasses while Aziraphale attempted to suss out if that was actually a man’s head in the fire or only some trick of human magic. Either way, it appeared to be some form of communication between distanced parties, like a telephone. Although Aziraphale was rather glad he wasn’t required to stick his head in a lit fireplace to have a conversation. 

“We’ll keep a lookout for him here, thank you for the update,” Dumbledore was saying.

The man’s head disappeared and the fire extinguished itself. Dumbledore regarded Aziraphale and Crowley thoughtfully, offering them a seat at the rickety couch before the fireplace. Crowley ignored him; Aziraphale politely declined. Dumbledore stayed standing himself. 

“I do wish the accommodations were better, but this is what Remus has available when he’s transforming.”

“What is happening?” asked Aziraphale. “I thought he was going to be here already.”

“It seems like he’s been held up on a mission he can’t extract himself from,” Dumbledore replied. “It is worrisome.”

“Who would send a werewolf on a mission near full moon? What were they thinking?”

“He was all that was available and he was supposed to finish up and get back here this morning.”

“Was it that important?” asked Crowley, looking disgusted. “Is he in a populated area?”

“He’s doing valuable surveillance work at the Ministry.”

“Is it worth people’s lives?” Crowley’s tones were turning to deep disappointment. Aziraphale knew he was rethinking his alliance with the Order, or at least with Dumbledore. “Recall him.”

“He will be here in good time. He is a smart man.”

Crowley stalked out in anger. Shrugging in apology, Aziraphale turned to Dumbledore, not sure what to say to him. Crowley didn’t always choose the best time to allow his temper to show. 

“Let him go, Ezra. It’s commendable he has a moral compass given his species.”

They waited in awkward silence as the shadows crept across the floor, an ominous reminder that time was running short. Dumbledore read through the collection of Daily Prophets stacked high on the distressed table in the kitchen. Aziraphale took to pacing until he was convinced that he was going to wear out the shabby-looking wood flooring. He eyed the newspapers deciding if it was worth gleaning any information from the old things, although the moving photos were mesmerising. It wasn’t often he looked at a portrait of someone in the news and they gave him a cheerful wave in return. 

Darkness was settling on the landscape and Aziraphale decided to take action. They were past the point of no return now, it was time to hunt a werewolf before he tore apart London. He opened his mouth to say something to Dumbledore when Crowley barged in, panting. He slammed the door behind them, shooting Aziraphale a concerned look. 

“Remus is out there.”

“I’m coming. You stay here, Albus. This is our job.” Aziraphale followed Crowley out the door, snapping his fingers to produce a blue light to illuminate their search. “Which way?”

“Umm . . . there.” Crowley pointed at the overly large brown-furred wolf in front of them, long teeth clearly on display. “The Marauders were able to keep him tame in animal form. I suggest that before we start hitting him with miracles.”

“I don’t have an animal form as you do.”

“We can take any shape we want. I go with snake because it’s what I’m used to. Just choose something!”

“I _was_ a mouse on the Ark.”

“I don’t care what you were on the . . . wait . . . _You_ stowed away on the _Ark_? This I got to hear. Bloody hell!”

Lupin had lunged straight for them but had come to a screeching halt, his teeth snapping uncomfortably close to Aziraphale’s face. He backed away, stumbling on the uneven ground and taking a fall. Looking around he didn’t see Crowley but could hear the protests of the angry werewolf as he fought to break free from what was keeping him from mauling Aziraphale. Black and red coils constricted him, tangling his front legs in them as he struggled to break free and attack his quarry. Aziraphale picked himself up and approached, a little frightened about doing so, but he trusted Crowley could hold him.

“Remus, it’s us, Ezra and Anthony.”

There was no hint of recognition. Lupin’s human brain was being well and truly suppressed by the wolf one. His one thought right now was to attack. He had turned his fury at being restrained on Crowley, whose scaly side was bloodied with scratches and bite marks. Aziraphale thanked whoever was listening out there that demons could not become werewolves although those fangs and back claws had to be painful to endure. He instinctively retreated again as Crowley writhed around Remus, attempting to further secure his hold on him, neck angled to strike even though he hadn’t made a move to do so yet. Aziraphale knew it was only a matter of time before the snake instincts finally took over and Crowley bit him. A large snake was bound to do Remus serious damage.

“Do what you have to, angel. I can’t take thisss much longer.”

Aziraphale performed a few complicated hand gestures that caused Remus to howl as if he was in pain before writhing in Crowley’s tight coils. With a flash of bright bluish-white light, he became human again — a tired-looking man in much-repaired robes who was trying to survive the best he could in an adverse world, unconscious in the coils of a snake-shaped demon. Crowley relaxed but did not transform or slither away. Aziraphale approached, looking him over and used his healing abilities to soothe Remus’ troubled mind as he lay cradled in Crowley’s lengths. Finishing up, he raised his head as Dumbledore approached.

“That could have turned out worssse, you know,” snapped Crowley.

“Hush, my dear,” murmured Aziraphale. “Let me handle this.” Out loud he said, “I believe we should take him back to Grimmauld Place. He’ll sleep through tomorrow and when he wakes, we can discuss our options on how to keep this kind of thing from happening again.”

“A wise decision,” replied Dumbledore.

“You know I’m bleeding over here,” moaned Crowley.

“And you are capable of healing yourself. We need to get these two back to London, then I’ll look at you.”

Four disappeared from the grassy field with a pop, one still a very large snake. 

Later that night in the bookshop's flat, Crowley lay shirtless on the bed. Aziraphale was looking after his wounds, carefully checking each bite and scratch for any sign that it was more than just a wound, even if both of them doubted that werewolves could affect demons. Besides, there were some deep scarring that needed tending to as Crowley did little more than knit the wounds closed to stop the bleeding and pain while they took Remus and Dumbledore back to Grimmauld Place. Touching each scar in turn, Aziraphale made them disappear, leaving behind nothing but unblemished skin.

“On your back please, Crowley. Let me see those bite wounds on your stomach.”

The scars of two large puncture wounds sat slightly below Crowley’s ribs, burrowing deep into the soft tissue there. He closed his eyes as Aziraphale took away the last of the discomfort and scarring before climbing into bed beside him. Aziraphale cuddled up close as Crowley opened his mouth to make a sharp comment or two.

“Shh,” said Aziraphale, kissing him. “Let’s rest. Tomorrow we can discuss what happened because I believe we have our work cut out for us.”

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

  
  



	20. Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale talks with Lupin while Crowley shows his spark of goodness to Tonks, who is pining after the one she loves, just like Crowley did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions of who they should interact with/what they should do in the wizarding world always welcome. 😊

Aziraphale was discussing with Remus Lupin replacing Wolfsbane Potions each month with a miracle from him in the sitting room of Grimmauld Place while Crowley wandered the house bored. His only part in this was escorting Aziraphale back and forth from the bookshop to the house for protection’s sake, and now he had nothing to do but wait. The house reminded him of Hell — gloomy, dank and stuffed full of dark objects. All that was missing were crowds of demons. Having nothing better to do, he sat in the kitchen messing around on his mobile. At least it wasn’t too bad down here. Get rid of the stupid “Look At Me, Aren’t I So Evil?” wallpaper, and it might be downright cheerful. 

“Hey look, it’s the famous Mr Crowley.”

He looked up to see a young woman with bright pink hair enter to get a cup of coffee from the pot always kept on the cooker. Grabbing the sugar bowl, she sat at the table across from him and added several spoonfuls as he watched. She smiled at him and continued.

“Of course with that red hair, you might be a long-lost Weasley.”

“Just Crowley is fine.”

“No first name? I’m Tonks.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Nymphadora.” Her nose wrinkled with disgust as she said it. “My mother is a hopeless romantic.”

“Anthony,” he replied. “I gave it myself because I don’t have a mother.”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. Crowley rummaged through his memories, pulling up what little information he knew about Tonks — mostly that she was competent at her job, but clumsy, and had been going through a spell of depression lately. Apparently he had caught her in a good mood. Oh yes, she was the one who changed her appearance at will, too. He found that particular ability interesting in a human, even one with magical abilities.

“We’re inside,” she said.

“So?”

“You’re still wearing your sunglasses.”

“Got a bet with Ron Weasley that you can get me to take them off?” he asked pointedly.

“How did you know that?”

“I have my ways.” He wasn’t going to divulge that Hermione was the source of his information, not that he would have ever removed them in front of humans, only in front of Aziraphale. “Aren’t you the one with the rare ability to change your looks?”

Her hair turned purple. “Yes. I use it for disguises and sometimes party tricks.”

“Nice.” Crowley’s hair turned black.

“You, too?” she asked. “Of course, I hear you and Ezra aren’t exactly human.”

He shrugged, irritated that it seemed everyone in the Order knew their little secret. “I’m not limited by physics. You?”

“I can only change my appearance.” 

Tonks’ nose morphed into a pig snout that she wiggled with a snort. Crowley gave her a smile. 

Amateur, he thought. But she was only human. He turned his hair back to its preferred colour and looked at her as the pig snout disappeared again. 

“Just your nose and hair?”

All of a sudden he was looking at himself in her rather colourful — by his standards — clothing. She pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her green leather coat and put them on to complete the look. He laughed at her and shifted his own looks, thus now it appeared as if they had traded seats. 

Crowley decided that he liked her. He wondered what sort of mischief she got up to in all those instant disguises of hers. Her abilities were probably a real asset for the Order. His thoughts shifted a bit, and he pondered what the Order had her doing.

“Oh, nice! You can even do clothing. I can’t. Only my body.”

“Still, I bet that comes in handy with missions.”

“Oh, it does,” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee and making a face. “God, who made it this time? This is awful.”

“Allow me.” Crowley paused a moment. “Ok, it should be better.”

She sipped again. “Thanks. That is an improvement. Where’s your friend? I thought you always travelled in pairs.”

“Talking to Lupin.”

He caught the look she tried so hard to keep hidden. It flashed briefly across her face showing longing, hunger, pining and outright love. Oh, he knew that look so well for it was one he wore occasionally over millennia before his love finally noticed him. She was in love and it wasn’t yet being returned. Was it Lupin? She was acting fine before he brought that name up. Yes, it all made sense now, didn’t it? Her depression everyone kept talking about. Crowley felt for her, being in the same position she was at one time. 

He’d also seen how Lupin had talked about her and the look on his face when he did. The longing in his voice that he tried to hide but Crowley could still hear because he had been there. He understood completely how it could go when two people were crazy in love but one was not ready to love the other. Dear Go- . . . Sata- . . . someone . . . he knew. Six thousand years of knowing. Well, they’d better figure it out here quickly because they didn’t have all the time in the world to come to grips with their feelings. Human lives were short and given they were both in an organization that was involved in acts of subterfuge against a dangerous enemy, their lives might turn out to be shorter than usual.

“You love him, don’t you?” It was blunt, but there was no point dancing around the subject.

“How do you know?”

“Been in the same situation. Try spending six thousand years pining after someone who’s too afraid to acknowledge he loves you, too.” He tipped back his head with a sigh. “I’m going to regret saying this, but if you need someone to talk to . . . well, I’ve been there. Expect some sarcasm because I’m not nice.”

“I’ve heard differently. Like you’re pretty friendly for a former dark spirit.”

“Don’t pass it around, ok?”

Upstairs, an entirely different conversation was taking place between Aziraphale and Lupin, who was listening closely to his proposal. He leaned forward on the old couch in the sitting room, taking in every word Aziraphale spoke because Aziraphale, while not able to cure his affliction, was giving him hope.

“We could do this one of two ways . . . I can conjure up the Wolfsbane Potion, no problem because I do not have the limitations you human wizards do. Or I can . . . um . . . put a spell on you, so to speak, and it’ll have the same effect as the Wolfsbane Potion, but be permanent. I guess it depends on how you want to go about it. Do you want to make it a point you found a new source of Wolfsbane Potion or doesn’t it matter? I don’t know how much gossip happens in the Order as I’m not here that much, really.”

He gave an apologetic smile, as he if he felt he should be more involved. Lupin looked off out the dingy lace curtains in thought. Aziraphale waited for his reply, wondering where Crowley had got off to. He hoped he wasn’t attempting to take the doorknobs yet again. He knew the audacity of that demon and that he wouldn't be ashamed to try that stunt a second time. He didn’t have long to ponder Crowley’s doings before Lupin stirred with a nod. Aziraphale turned his attention back to him.

“I’ll think permanent will do, Ezra. It’s rare anyone sees me take Wolfsbane Potion and I admit I’d rather not. It is awful stuff to have to drink. And thank you for doing this.”

“Anything to help you out, Remus. I hear werewolves have such a terrible time of it. All right. Give me half a moment.” 

Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated, sending out his angelic powers over to Lupin, convincing his werewolf form that it was still human inside, so he could retain his normal mind instead of becoming a mindless killing machine once a month. He could see it inside Lupin, the werewolf form that caused him so much grief and the temptation to yank it out so the man would never have to endure another transformation again, but he couldn’t. God had set down Her rules and even beings on their own side couldn’t disobey them. Some rules were beyond sides. Resisting that urge, he finished up and opened his eyes. 

“There, it’s done. You will be fine next month and every month after that.”

“Thank you so much, Ezra. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to. Pay it forward, please. Help someone else who needs it.”

“I like to think we’re doing a lot of that in the Order,” Lupin replied. “It’s thankless work, done in secret and in hopes that we’ll win. I believe you and Anthony will help turn the tide even if your hands are tied in what you can actually do. This helped me a lot. It takes a weight off my mind.”

Laughter came from the hallway before two figures appeared in the doorway — Crowley, who had a snake head, and Tonks, who was sporting white hair and a duckbill. Tonks immediately retracted her bill, looking sheepish. Crowley was rarely embarrassed, but he did return his head to normal, brushing his red hair into place as Aziraphale gave him a stern look. He didn’t see it. His attention was on Tonks, who was staring at Lupin with flushed cheeks and a strained smile. Lupin, for his part, was looking at her in surprise like he didn’t expect her to be here at all.

“Hi, Tonks. Umm, you’re back from your mission.”

She nodded, “Oh yeah. Just briefly. I have to head out again.” 

She pointed to the door and walked outside with a goodbye to all. Crowley caught her eye before she shut it behind her. 

“Hang in there, Tonks. It’ll be fine.”

She smiled at him and nodded again, closing it behind her. Aziraphale gave him a curious look. Lupin was too busy staring at the door to notice either of them. His facial expression was that of a man in love and too afraid to admit it to the person whom he was pining after. Crowley sighed with a shake of his head and approached him, offering him a seat on the old couch once again. Lupin took it with a look of puzzlement as he slowly sank back down on its dusty cushions.

“You’re being stupid,” Crowley commented flatly. “She loves you and there’s no reason to keep denying you love her back. Now go start a friendship with that young lady and see where it goes.”

Astonished, Lupin gaped at him. “How do you know? Did she tell you?”

“No, been in that same boat. It’s not a fun one and I don’t care if you think you’re too old, too dangerous and too poor for her. She doesn’t care. Besides, you’re no longer dangerous, the age gap isn’t that bad and the money she makes as an Auror is enough for two. Understand?”

Lupin nodded silently in reply. Aziraphale stood in the dusty doorway, frozen with shock that Crowley would voluntarily give love advice. The demon’s gaze slid over to him, and he smirked at his partner, enjoying the stunned look in his sky blue eyes. He strode back over to him, taking his hand — a rare display of affection in front of humans. Usually, those were reserved for private times alone with Aziraphale. He was a demon, still, with a reputation to maintain even if the world at large remained ignorant of his true species. 

“Don’t think I don’t see it. There’s more pining between you than you’ll find in some of Shakespeare’s works. And I hate the gloomy ones, so knock off the angst. I got enough of that back when Shakespeare was writing that drivel.”

“It’s not drivel, Crowley,” stated Aziraphale as they walked towards the door, leaving a quiet Lupin behind.

“I’ll do what I can, Anthony,” he finally called to them when Crowley had a hand on the doorknob.

“All I can ask is you try.” 

The two of them stepped on to the stoop, Aziraphale still maintaining his amazed look. Finally, he beamed at Crowley, squeezing his hand in pride. Crowley cocked an eyebrow at him in return as they disappeared to the bookshop. Appearing in the entryway, he headed back to get out the decanter of scotch and a couple of glasses, setting them on the table in the backroom while Aziraphale watched him, looking like he was tickled pink. Crowley simply splashed the liquor into the cut crystal tumblers and gestured to the seat across from him.

“I thought a drink might be in order after being in that dank house.”

“Were you being . . . encouraging . . . Crowley? I mean, actually being encouraging instead of your usual sardonic self?”

“Yeah. What of it? There’s no reason those two need to be pining after each other. Enough pine there to make a forest,” he muttered, taking a sip and trying to appear like it was no big deal.

“I do hope your match-making works. I so love you and your surprises, you wily old serpent.”

“Don’t tell the whole blasted world, ok?”

Aziraphale settled back to sip at his scotch, a proud smile on his face. Yes, interacting positively with humans was having quite the effect on Crowley, and he couldn’t be more pleased about it. But he was careful to keep this kind of thoughts to himself. Even retired demons didn’t like to be reminded they weren’t as evil as they thought. The silly old serpent, indeed.


End file.
